


The Pirates' King

by Rising_Phoenix



Series: The Pirate's Mate [2]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Sex, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Dubious Consent, Historical Inaccuracy, Hurt/Comfort, Imprisonment, M/M, Matelotage, Not Treasure Island Compliant, Pirate King John Silver, Pirate War, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2020-12-31 21:10:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 35,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21152270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rising_Phoenix/pseuds/Rising_Phoenix
Summary: After having his heart torn out once again, Flint is the most dangerous enemy the pirates of Nassau could have.When painful losses strain their fight for freedom, there is only one man they can turn to...





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TuridTorkilsdottir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuridTorkilsdottir/gifts), [OnlyOneWoman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyOneWoman/gifts).

_“James. Forgive me,” was all he could say before being interrupted._

_“James.”_

_It was a soft voice that interrupted him before he could explain anything to James, before he could fight for his love and keep what had just become his._

_A soft voice with a posh British accent that made Flint grow pale, the eyes nothing but pupils, the face turning from confusion into a mask of rage. While Flint turned around, Silver looked up, looking at a man he had never seen before, dressed in a dark green coat._

_Without knowing, he knew who the man was. The short blond hair, the handsome face that showed only little traces of his age, the eyes brilliant blue and kind. He was the man he had been jealous of for months, that he envied of the love he received even after years._

_The man he had betrayed of his chance of being reunited with the one they both loved._

_“Thomas?” James whispered._

_The next moment a gun was pointing at Silver’s head, drawn by his own husband._

_The man he had betrayed and lied to once too often._

_The man who pulled the trigger._

Silver found himself frozen, not able to move, not able to breathe, and staring into Flint’s eyes, which showed only anger and hatred, not the love he had seen in them just minutes ago. He could only look at his husband who had pulled the trigger for a moment, and then he felt something hard hit his side and he hit the beach sand, gasping for air that left his lungs when he and the ground connected.

But there was no pain.

Instead he found himself buried under hard muscle and he looked in the clear eyes of Charles Vane, who was crouching above him, one leg next to his hip and one hand next to his head on the ground. There was a line of blood on Vane’s temple, and now Silver understood – Vane had, the moment he saw Flint draw the gun, printed forward and pushed him out of the line, had been grazed by Flint’s bullet himself.

Of all people it had been the one he had almost never spoken too, who he could not even say if he liked him or not, who seemed to be indifferent about him. Of all people it had been Vane to save his life when it had been his own husband who had tried to kill him.

Vane raised a brow and Silver noticed how the Ranger’s captain let his left hand slide down his side to reach his dagger.

Then Vane snarled: “Run.”

Sliver frowned a second, and then Vane was off him and turned to his left, the dagger at the ready and turned towards Flint, who was surprised by the other pirate’s reaction when the almost feral appearance of Vane attacked him. Then he understood that Vane was trying for a distraction to get him the chance to escape certain death if Flint would get his hands on him now, uncontrollable in his rage and able to kill him with his bare hands.

“Get out of my way, Vane!” Flint yelled, the voice rough and growling. “Let me get to him.”

Vane parried a strike of Flint’s arm and pushed the older man back.

“Stay back!” Vane gave back, and Silver asked himself why Vane had rushed to his help, why he took the side of a liar.

It was Ben who ran forward, past Silver with only short eye contact, before he went to Vane’s side and blocked Flint from him as well.

“You’d regret it, don’t do this!” Ben shouted.

“This is not your fight!” Flint gave back, and Silver used the distraction Ben and Vane provided for him.

He struggled to get on his legs, and while behind him hell broke loose, he saw how some of the British soldiers behind Rogers were holding horses. His chance to get away on another way than using a boat.

His leg was a nuisance and he more stumbled than run towards the horses, falling to his knees and getting up again, pushing a soldier to the side, and having brought up his own dagger, stabbed one of the other redcoats into the side, knowing he would not die of the wound, but would be unable to fight him.

Then he bumped into another man and looked up.

The eyes he looked into were brilliant blue, clear and had an expression somewhere between curious and confused. Only few wrinkles at the corners of those eyes showed his age in an almost pretty face, with soft looking lips and windswept short hair the color of wheat. Silver understood this instant why James had fallen in love with Thomas Hamilton all those years ago, not only for his mind but also for his handsome looks. It could have been interesting to get to know this man, to learn about the James his husband had been before his life was shattered, but he knew he and Hamilton would never exchange a single word.

He had no chance but to push the other man to the side and try to reach one of the horses. When he had grabbed the reigns of a chestnut mare, trying to get into the saddle without being able to push himself off the ground with his left leg, but panic and running for his life did wonders to his strength and he found himself in the saddle, turning the horse and looking at the fight that had started at the beach, only a few yards away from him.

He saw how the pirates where drawing back towards the boats, how Ben and Billy shot at soldiers and protected each other, how Anne and Rackham were the unit they always had been when together. He wished he could fight with them, but he was a selfish man and if he wanted to save his own skin, he had to run, fast and far.

Not quite understanding yet what was happening, he turned the horse and in the turn, his eyes met those of the man he loved. Even over the distance he knew, he felt that James was looking right into his eyes.

There was no love.

There was no regret.

There was no sympathy.

There was hate.

Pure and searing.

“I’m sorry,” Silver whispered, aware that Flint could not hear him, tears forming in his eyes, and then he pushed his legs into the horse’s sides and got it to move, prompting it to jump into a first slow then strong gallop after a few steps.

He rode over the dunes and it took an hour until he allowed him and the exhausted animal to slow down.

Slipping from the saddle, he fell to the ground, and, curled up into a ball, he started to sob uncontrollably, while the horse walked slowly away.

Slowly it settled in his mind what had just happened.

Not only had James learned of the lie he had committed. He had tried to kill him, without the blink of an eye, without hesitation. One word from Hamilton had been enough to erase his husband James, the man in whose arms he had spent the night before in bliss, in true happiness. One word from Hamilton had been enough to make him forget that Silver was his husband, to forget the vows they had exchanged…had that truly been only yesterday?

It had taken that one word, one single “James”, for him to make his choice. A choice against Silver. Against what they wanted to build together.

He hiccupped under his tears, sitting up and holding his own, aching head.

James.

He would never see him again, never feel him again. Never know again what it felt like to be loved and cherished.

And it was his own fault that he had lost his husband, his home, his family. He was on his own again, without a destination, without a haven to return to.

His stupidity, his selfishness had ruined everything. He should have left James the choice, should have told him about Thomas being alive, should have told him he loved him and not wanted to lose him, should have told him…should have…should…

What had he done?

What was he to do?

Where should he go?

He only knew one thing.

John Silver had to die.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.

_1 year later._

War.

In all the years since he had left England with Miranda, Flint had not wasted a single thought of ever fighting for the British Crown again, serving a king and a country that had betrayed him and robbed him of the life he had dreamed to one day be able to live. A life where he would be accepted as the man he was. A life in happiness. A life in peace.

And now there was war.

The pirates, the men and women who once had been his friends, had made Nassau into an impregnable fortress. So far, they had been able to fight off any attack against the town and even though the damages were plenty, they still held the walls and gates.

A part of him was annoyed that they had still not had a chance to take the town back into British ownership. The part that was still a Navy man, still the dutiful man that once had been James McGraw.

But another part of him was somewhat proud, that the pirates were fighting back with all they had, that they stood their ground and refused to give in to the proposals and offers that Rogers made on a regular basis. They were proud and maybe arrogant, but they held their sense of freedom dear and would take it to their graves. He wanted to feel nothing for them, but he did.

Standing at the railing of the ship he commanded on Rogers request, the beautiful square rigger ship, not unlike the Walrus, of the name Aegaeon. Flint had rested the right hand on the rail, looking out on the waves of the ocean beneath, ignoring the voices and turmoil behind him. He did not like to be part in this, not on this day, and not with these people.

“Captain,” a voice said, and Flint turned around, noticing how the English sailor that had approached him, looked at the older man with not only respect, but with fear. “Mister Rogers wishes for your attention.”

Flint only nodded, and walked with steady steps over the planks, passing the kneeling figures of the pirates they had taken captive after the long sea battle they had gone through. Some of the men were wounded, bleeding, but nobody paid them attention, and none of them complained, not wanting to give a hint of weakness. Their two ships where left and right of the Aegaeon, boarded by soldiers and taken as theirs.

He paced faces he called friends, he had trusted and who had been a part of his life.

Anne Bonny was kneeling next to Rackham, who showed both anger on their faces, Anne though showing a trace of fear, not knowing what she as a woman would have to await in captivity, and he could not blame her. Rackham looked like he wanted to come up with one of his snarky remarks, but he did bite his tongue and instead just stared at Flint, who showed no emotion. Close to Jack kneeled Vane, proud and brooding, the head lowered and not looking up, the hands balled into fists and the cheat heaving under heavy breaths. He knew Vane to be feral in fight and it must have taken all his strength to hold back from jumping to his feet and fight until the last drop of blood had left his body. Given the chance, Vane would tear out Flint’s throat with his teeth, and not be ashamed of it. All three of them would kill him without wasting a thought, seeing him as the traitor after he did not return to Nassau at their sides but stayed behind and made the decision to fight them. Vane’s muscled tensed up when Flint was at his height and it was a movement of Rackham’s shoulders that stopped him. Flint saw how Vane glared at the other pirate captain from hooded eyelids, somewhat impressed by the voiceless conversation they were able to have.

“You wanted to see me?” Flint asked the man standing in front of the group of captives, who now turned around, the pale gray eyes cold and calculating.

Rogers looked tired. He was tired of fighting, and he was tired of not winning.

When Rogers stepped aside, Flint saw who was kneeling behind him, one brow bloody but the blue eyes still filled with a glint of mischief and with more power than any one of them could ever dream to achieve.

Edward Teach.

Blackbeard.

A man who once was his competitor. Then he friend. And now…

Flint’s jaw clenched.

Rogers only nodded, while Teach almost smiled. The legendary captain gave Flint a nod before a hood was drawn over his head.

“Do it,” Rogers only said.

“Is this necessary?” Flint asked, the voice a whisper, turned in a way that nobody else could see or hear him speaking.

“I think this is not your decision, Captain McGraw,” Rogers said, the voice without emotion, and gave the sailors a nod, who now started to heave.

Flint closed his eyes, nausea in his throat, when Teach’s body hit the water and the sailors did the job Rogers had ordered them too. He turned to look at the other captives, seeing their emotions. There were veins pulsing in Vane’s neck, Rackham looked with closed eyes like he was praying and Anne was staring at an imaginary spot to focus on anything but the anger and desperation she felt. It was Rackham who looked up, sensing that someone was looking at him and his and Flint’s eyes met. He looked at a man who showed no emotion, was not moved by what was happening and still, Rackham saw a man who he had seen laugh, who he had seen fall in love, who had been his friend. Now, he was becoming a murderer.

The duty was done, Teach hit the planks, and Rackham looked like he wanted to vomit, Vane only stared holding back the turmoil in his head and heart.

At first, Flint thought, Teach was dead, the body torn open from the debris that covered the underside of the ship, but then he coughed and tried to raise, but Rogers only looked in annoyance at the pirate.

“Again.”

“No,” Rackham whispered, and he was fighting tears already. Teach had become his friend, he was something like a father to Charles, and now they were taking him from them, a fixture in their lives, someone to look up to, to lead them. What would they do without him?

Again, the sailors drew Teach through the water, their muscles straining with every pull, and Flint knew that every move, every pull meant that Teach was scrapping along the rough surface, the lungs filled with water and was fighting for his life when there could not be a chance to win this fight.

Again, Teach was pulled out of the water and hit the deck.

The wounds had multiplied and were deeper than before, gashes along every visible surface. No human being could have survived being keelhauled twice, and something in Flint was relieved that Teach had succumbed to the execution this procedure was. But then he again moved, not able to produce any sound, more dead than alive.

Flint looked at Rogers and saw wild rage in the privateer’s eyes.

“Again!” He ordered.

Flint stepped next to Rogers and put a hand on his arm, a gesture that made Rogers glare at him and move out of his grasp.

“This is insanity,” Flint hissed. “Stop this, now.”

“Are you ordering me, captain?”

“I am telling you that this is by no means something that is necessary.”

“I want them to know who they are dealing with.”

“They know. Believe me, they know.”

Flint again looked at his former friends. He wanted to ask them questions he had no answers to, things that had kept him awake in numerous nights in this past year, but he knew the distance between them could never be crossed again, no bridge left to build.

There was nothing but hatred in Vane’s eyes, who now had looked up and was looking straight at Flint. There was unbelieving in Rackham’s expression who had moved a little in front of Anne, in an attempt to shield her of what was happening.

Every moan of the sailors who pulled, every order to “heave” put goosebumps on Flint’s skin, while Rackham winced. Both pirates were staring at Flint, trying to recognize the man whose wedding they had attended, but they both realized that the man who had taken Silver as his husband was gone. Rackham frowned and sadness flooded him.

He almost jumped when Teach’s body hit the deck for a third time after keelhauling.

This had to be it.

It had to be over.

Nobody could survive this.

And while it was gruesome and disgusting, Flint could not take his eyes of the body in front of him The wounds were open to the bone, flesh torn off him, skin in shreds. The right side of his face was gone, as was his lip and the eye. Flint closed his eyes, in mourning of a man he deeply respected, he heard Rackham let out a sob and a growl from Vane.

And then there was coughing and heaving, and his eyes snapped open.

Teach was alive.

The old bastard was still alive. The agony, the pain he must feel must have been unbearable. How anyone could survive this, it was unknown to Flint, and he stared at the body that once had been the impressive and forbidding Blackbeard.

“Again,” Rogers said.

He saw how Vane got ready to attack, his catlike eyes only slits and filled to the brim with tears for his fatherly friend. Rackham moved to push him back, but Vane jumped to his feet and pushed a sailor out of his way, trying to get to Rogers, Rackham shouting something to stop him from getting killed.

A shot made them all freeze in their movements, and they looked at the man who fired.

They all looked at Flint, who had drawn his gun and ended the misery of the man who now lay unmoving in front of him.

Never again would they all look at Teach’s boyish smile, hear his strong voice or loud laughter. Neither of them would look into those blue and friendly eyes.

Vane fell to his knees, Jack behind him, drawing him into his arms. They were in the middle of a fight and still Jack found the moment to lean his head against Vane’s and whisper something. Then both men looked up at Flint.

“Thank you,” Vane said with a whisper, and Flint nodded.

And then, hell broke loose.

There were more gunshots and Flint pushed Rogers, who he had to protect at all cost, back, drawing his second gun and getting ready to fight back. There must have been men on the pirate ship they had overseen, how that had been possible would remain a riddle to Flint. There was an explosion and now shots, men engaging into a fight, and this time, the pirates were fighting for their lives. Anne disarmed a soldier and fought back to back with Rackham, while Vane made his way towards Rogers.

“Get out of my way,” he demanded when he reached Flint, who was still in front of Rogers, and who raised his hand and pointed the gun at Vane’s head.

Another explosion stopped them from continuing, when Rackham moved to Vane’s side and grabbed his wrist.

“Charles, come!” He shouted, just the moment Flint fired.

Neither would later be able to say if Flint missed on purpose, but it gave Vane the chance to push forward while shoving Rackham to the side, grabbing the gun from a fallen soldier, cocking it and raising his hand to aim at Rogers.

“Go, Jack!” Vane yelled, looking over his shoulder, and he could see that Rackham was fighting with emotions until he nodded and jumped off the railing, landing on the Colonial Dawn’s deck, who sat lower in the water than the larger ship. He fired a shot but missed, and was immediately taken down by soldiers, while he grinned triumphant at Rogers, having helped his friends escape from his grasp.

Anne took Rackham into her arms, and then Rackham shouted commands and the Dawn promptly was pulled into the draw of the sea, moving with the upcoming wind that appeared like it had been ordered by her captain

“You will pay for this,” Rogers said, and kicked Vane into the ribs.

The Dawn moved fast, cutting the waves as she took up speed, most of the pirates that had survived having been able to escape. A well-executed plan that had sprung into life in case of their captivity. Flint should not have been surprised by the cleverness of Rackham, but he was annoyed that he had not thought through every option.

But what threw Flint off was the man on the steering wheel.

A man of not overly large build, clad in a blue shirt and with shoulder long light brown-blond hair, with eyes so blue he could make them out over the distance, and completely wet from head to toe.

Ben Gunn.

Flint raised a brow.

“Turn her!” He shouted, and turned to his, to Rogers’ crew.

“They disabled the rudder!” One of the sailors shouted back.

He turned back to the Dawn.

It was Ben who looked over to him, and he could not help but give his former crewman an impressed nod.

The little Scot had just managed to outwit the infamous Woodes Rogers and James Flint, and Flint could not help but feel pride for the man who had been Silver’s best friend.


	3. Chapter 3

****

_Bristol, England_

_5 weeks later_

William Henley stood behind his house, a lit pipe in his hands, a habit he had acquired to keep himself busy in times when he did not know what to do with his thoughts, when everything that had happened to him in the past became too much to bear.

The late evening was cold, the wind that mussed up his hair was chill and helped clear his mind. The tobacco on his tongue was bitter and tart, not the finest of blends but something affordable and not the flavored shit that the fine lords in the fancy halls preferred. He blew a cloud of smoke into the air and watched the little cloud he produced disappear into the rising night.

His heart was heavy, the burden of his soul at times so intense that he felt it in every muscle, in every joint, and the knowledge that he had brought this desperation onto himself made it all the worse. There were days when it was hard to get up in the morning, do the chores his home and business demanded, talk to people and keep a kind smile on his face. He knew he was a man that was easy approachable for others, friendly and with a good sense of humor that made him a pleasant companion and entertainer, but not one of those people knew the storm behind his eyes.

He sighed and closed the lid of his pipe to kill the glow, and emptied the ashes into one of the flower pots next to the door, returning through the door into the house.

The kitchen was in uproar, and he rolled his eyes at the antics of the cook, one Luke Stephens, who was once again in a quarrel with the kind and pretty woman who had taken the position as his housekeeper and helped run his business to perfection.

“And I tell ya, Missus, I have not receive a delivery of the brandy you insist on!” Stephens yelled, and Henley winded at the loud voice of the other man.

“And I tell you, Mister Stephens,” the woman gave back, one hand on a hip. “That we received a whole barrel of brandy two days ago. You can’t seriously tell me that it is gone.”

Henley stepped closer, and both looked at the owner of the business they were working for.

“What is going on?”

“Mister Stephens here seems to have misplaced a whole barrel of brandy we got only two days ago. A whole barrel,” the housekeeper explained and Stephens sputtered, got ready to return harsh words, but Henley raised a hand and stopped him before he could say anything.

“Jim!” He shouted instead and a few moments later, a boy opened the kitchen door from the other side, peeking his head of soft blond waves inside, the eyes that Henley found to speak of intelligence looking at the three adults that stood there.

“Mister Henley?” He asked, entering the room and closing the door behind him as he had been taught.

“Your mother and Mister Stephens are missing a barrel of brandy. Can you help them find it?” Henley smiled.

Jim giggled softly.

“But, Ma, I brought the barrel into the storage cellar yesterday as Mister Henley wanted me to. It was in the way.”

Stephens raised a hand that was holding a large wooden spoon and Henley thought the man to look ridiculous.

“Apologies are in order, Missus.”

She rolled her eyes and gave a lopsided smile, one that Jim had inherited from her and made both of them look mischievous.

“My sincere apologies, Mister Stephens,” she said with a smile that showed that she did not take the cook all too serious.

Stephens huffed and turned around to return busying himself with the steaming pots that kept flavorsome and tempting secrets in the form of steams vegetables and meat, and probably one of Stephens’ famous stews that Henley was ready to die for any day. Not having to be prompted to do so, Henley neared the stove and bend over one of the pots, sniffing at the stew that was indeed cooking in it and closed his eyes in almost bliss.

“Keep yer fingers of my stove, sir,” Stephens chuckled, aware that Henley was always tempted to taste and dwell into whatever he decided to cook for the evening, having been granted free hand by his employer. Henley had learned to trust Stephens’ skills immediately after he hired the man, a handsome man with blue eyes and dark hair, who never spoke of his past and had arrived in Bristol with a parrot and a sack with few belongings looking for work.

“C’mon, Jim,” looks like we are not allowed to stay in the kitchen, Henley laughed and put a hand on the teens shoulder, leading him through the door back into the guestroom where only a few guests were occupying themselves this evening.

Jim’s mother followed them to return to her duty to take care of the guests’ needs, standing soon again behind the counter and handing out drinks and answered the questions the travelers and regulars that frequented the Spyglass had.

Stephens’ parrot sat on a bar they had installed for him, snarling and cackling at everyone passing with not so mild obscenities and a regular shout of “Shiver me timbers” and “Pieces of eight”, which made Henley laugh. When the parrot, who had taken a liking to the innkeeper, saw his patron, she jumped off his bar and right onto Henley’s shoulder, who always had treats for the bird in his coat pockets and fed her little delicacies that made the parrot shift in happiness from one foot to the other, letting out sounds that almost sounded like giggles.

Henley saw four regulars, deckhands from the near harbor, sitting at one of the round, wooden tables, playing a round of whist and enjoying the drinks his inn provided for them. The empty plates on the table showed that they already had dinner and Jim, as soon as he saw them, hurried to take the dirty tableware and bring them back into the kitchen, returning a minute later to Henley’s side, which he rarely left as the man found. Since the father of the boy had died half a year ago, Jim had gotten attached to his mother’s and his employer, needing a father figure and someone who did not chastise his wrongdoings and did not was all too strict. Henley often asked himself, what it was about him that Jim was always close around him, just like the bloody parrot that was by now more his than Stephens’ pet, and he could not come up with an answer for that.

“That dirty bird of yours…,” one of the deckhands said, shaking his head, but Henley only grinned.

“This dirty bird of mine may very well be two hundred years old, George,” he said, leaning against one of the wooden beams that held the ceiling, feeding the parrot another treat which made her screech in delight. Jim’s eyes grew large and he sat down on a barrel, the feet dangling a little over the ground and getting ready to listen to one of Henley’s tales that everyone enjoyed. “Most of the live forever if not killed by man and they’ve seen events of history that you and me can only dream of. This one,” another treat found its way into the parrots beak. “With the wickedness and mischief of her soul, you would think she was still a chick, but she has sailed aboard ships that have seen the jungles of India and Goa, has seen the shores of the Caribbean and the Americas, and she sailed aboard the famous Walrus and served her duty under nobody but Captain Flint.”

Jim gasped.

“Captain Flint…,” he whispered.

“Aye,” Henley said, while the parrot rubbed her head against his beard, as if to thank for the praise he was giving her. “Captain Flint, which is her name as well.”

“But she’s a girl,” Jim objected.

“Who says that girls cannot be captains, Jim? One day I will tell you stories about the ladies of the sea, of the ruthless Mary Read and Anne Bonny, who are just as dangerous as any of their male counterparts. You shan’t underestimate any pirate, no matter the gender, no matter the age or size.”

Jim chewed on his bottom lip.

“Wish I could go there and fight at their sides,” he whispered, making Henley frown.

“Boy, those are criminals, and the all ought to be hanged one day,” one of the deckhands said, and Henley took a deep breath.

“There’s a ship that arrived today hailing from the Caribbean,” George said while concentrating on his hand of cards.

“Like every other day,” Henley said and winked at Jim, who beamed at the man who had become a father figure to him.

“Come, my dear Captain Flint, let’s see if I can find something more to eat for the two of us,” he then said addressing the parrot. “Jim, are you joining us?”

Jim nodded and jumped off the barrel, getting ready to follow the innkeeper into the kitchen where they would be taking their evening meal with Stephens’ fresh cooked stew and a pint of beer for Henley and a glass of milk for the boy, when the door to the inn opened and two figures entered.

Henley looked at the two newcomers and stared at them, frozen in his movement.

It was a couple, a man and a woman.

The man wore his hair tied back into a ponytail, the color hard to make out but somewhere between blond and brown, the eyes the color of a clear day at sea. His lower face was covered with a short cropped beard, the skin tanned from days at sea. He wore a dark blue frock coat, a shawl of rough dark wool, gray breeches and black boots up to his knees. Over one shoulder he was carrying a duffel bag and a travel bag made of woven fabric in the other hand, having taken to carry the lady's belongings as well.

The woman was an appearance that made all the men in the inn stare at her like they had seen an epiphany, and Henley was sure that most men here had never seen an exotic beauty as her, with the skin the color of milk coffee, black intelligent eyes that were surrounded by khol and topped with arched brows, luscious lips and a face of the beauty of a Goddess. She was a lady’s clothing and a necklace that would make a queen jealous, and was covered in a black, hooded coat, hiding the cascades of her black curls.

Both people were looking for something and looked tired.

It was Stephens who hobbled out of the kitchen, carrying a tray with bowls of stew for some guests who had ordered, and the try fell to the ground in a loud clash, making Henley wince before he returned his attention the two strangers who looked at Stephens, the woman’s brows raised in amusement.

Then the man’s eyes fell on Henley.

And after a moment of silence between him and Ben Gunn the Scottis sailor said: “Hello, John.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have used some motives from Stevenson's Treasure Island for this chapter, like the parrot and of course Jim Hawkins, as well as the name of the Inn. The name "William Henley" is the name of the man, Stevenson's friend, who inspired Long John Silver.
> 
> The word "hello" indeed came into use in the early 1800s.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected proposal.

Mrs. Hawkins hat given the two new guests two rooms on the upper floor, facing the backside of the house where the vegetable garden was situated. The rooms of the Spyglass were plain but comfortable, with nice beds, a desk and a chair, a chest for the guests’ belongings. There were clean and Silver had left the furnishing of the rooms to Mrs. Hawkins after he had bought the Inn after arriving in Bristol almost a year ago, and the woman had done well. Whenever he went to go look at the rooms, to fix little things that might have gone broken, he found the rooms to be homey and places of peace and comfort, exactly what sailors and travelers needed when they arrived or got ready to leave in the near harbor.

Like the two travelers who now were upstairs and rested from the long journey from the Caribbean to England.

It was Max’s first time on English soil, and she was not accustomed to the chill air and was constantly freezing. He had asked Mrs. Hawkins to provide hot stones to warm up the bed for the young woman. Ben, he had not said much, only that they needed a room to stay in, obviously not wanting to out Silver in front of people who had come to know a different man from the man he had been before. Was that really only a year ago?

He twisted the wedding band he still wore on his left hand, the band of silver and rose gold, symbolizing the two lost men who had found a home with each other. Flint. He missed him every day, wished still that one day, the ginger captain would come to the Spyglass, sit down and would give him one of his wordless smiles that expressed so much. In his dream, Flint’s hair had grown longer again, tied back into the short ponytail like he had worn it when he had met him the first time. He missed his smile, and his eyes, and his freckles, his kisses and his touch, the tenderness and warmth he had found at his side. All the things he had destroyed.

He sighed and his had grabbed the pint of beer that stood in front of him more tight.

The guests of the inn had left hours ago, Mrs. Hawkins and Jim, as well as Stephens had returned home, and somehow Captain Flint was sitting on her bar and was cleaning her feathers, and Silver asked himself again if the parrot had not long become his.

“Mr. Henley?”

He jumped a little at the unexpected sound of the voice and looked over his shoulder.

Jim was standing in the center of the room, wet from the rain had had started earlier, the hair curling around his ears and the face a little reddened in places.

“What are you doing here, Jim?” He asked, the tongue a little heavy from the alcohol he had consumed.

“I…uhm…I…,” the boy stuttered. “He called you John.”

Silver lowered his head, the back turned to the boy that he had come to care for.

“Go home, Jim,” he said, defeat in his voice, feeling that all his lies were now catching up with him.

There was silence for a moment.

“No,” said Jim then and Silver heard the boy get closed until he stood next to him.

After months of not feeling much, of feeling numb inside and in body, Silver had started to feel physical pain again. His leg cramped and his head hurt so bad, he wanted to beat himself, but instead he drank, hoping the beer would bring relief.

“I want to know what is going on,” Jim insisted, sounding suddenly much older and mature than his age would make one believe. “Who are you?”

Silver shook his head.

“That is nothing of your concern, Jim. I am William Henley. I’m the owner of this inn and your employer. And now, go home.”

A sound made both of them look up when Jim was just getting ready to return what he said.

Ben was standing in the door that lead to the staircase, looking at Silver, and he could see that Ben was considering just saying out loud who and what he was.

“My name is John Silver,” he started, the eyes on Ben. “I am a pirate and was Captain James Flint’s quartermaster. I gave up piracy and came to England to start a new life.”

He omitted the details, the betrayal, the lies, he was aware he did this, but he did not want to lose the trust and friendship of this boy like he had lost everything else before.

“You…you’re a pirate?” Jim asked, the voice breathless. “You’re Long John Silver?”

Silver looked with a raised brow at the boy.

“I…I read about yours and Captain Flint’s adventures,” he explained. “The Urca de Lima, how you took three of his majesty’s ships without any casualties of your own, how you and your Captain were the most ruthless and feared pirates of the West Indies.”

“They only feared me because they feared him,” Silver said.

_They are so terrified of you, they’re terrified of me._

Silver smiled at the memory of the conversation with Flint, even if it had not been a pleasant one, when Flint had showed him that he could look behind his façade.

_You have wormed your way into the heads of the men out there. And they've granted you authority over them because of it. But in my head, you are not welcome_

“That is not true, and you know it,” Ben said, coming nearer and taking a stool cornering the one Silver was sitting on.

“Oh, Ben, sweet Ben,” he smiled. “I have only been a tool of Captain James Flint…,”

“And yet you made him your puppet,” Ben gave back.

“James has never been a puppet to anyone.”

“You manipulated him, you manipulated all of us.”

“That is what I do,” Silver whispered.

“Was all of it lied?” Jim asked silently, standing close to Silver, the eyes though filled with subtle fear on the stranger.

“No,” Silver said. “I did my share of lies. But I did not lie to you. I could not tell anyone here who I was in my past life, or I would meet the gallows. But I am who I am. Just a crippled sailor with a bad habit of omitting the truth.”

“Like you omitted to tell Flint the truth about…”

Silver looked up.

“What would you have done if you had been in my place and Billy in Flint’s?” He asked, fighting against the tears that were rising. “I could not leave this choice to him, I could not risk to lose…,” he stopped and lowered his head again, closing his eyes.

“I would have left him the choice and if he would have really loved me, he would have chosen me and not a memory that died a long time ago. With what you did, you caused what happened.”

“Don’t you think I don’t know that?” Silver yelled and threw the pint across the room against a wall, making both Ben and Jim jump. “Don’t you think I don’t know that I destroyed everything? I wish Vane had not jumped between us, I wish he had shot me on the beach. Death would be much easier than living this life!”

“Death is never a choice,” Ben said softly. “There is already too much of that in the world.”

Silver looked for long seconds at the man who had been his friend. Then he turned to Jim.

“Go home, Jim. Mister Gunn and I have to talk to each other it seems.”

Jim bit his lip, then he nodded and turned to leave.

In the door he paused.

“I will not tell anyone your name, Mister Henley…I mean Mister Silver,” he said.

Silver nodded.

“I’d appreciate that, thank you.”

Ben looked at the door until it closed behind the boy and then looked back at Silver.

“You look like shit,” he said.

“I feel like it too,” Silver returned. “What the fuck are you doing here, you and Max?”

Ben stood up, went behind the counter and got himself a mug of brandy, taking a few gulps.

“You have not heard?”

Silver tilted his head a little.

“About?”

“Everything,” Ben started. “Flint is working for Rogers now, he hunts us.”

Silver shivered and gave a short nod.

“Yes, I heard that.”

“Billy is with him,” Ben said, the voice low, and Silver felt dread in his heart, understanding that not only he had lost the love of his life, but Ben had suffered through something similar.

“Five weeks ago, we, that is the Colonial Dawn and the Ranger were hunting a prize. We needed supplies since Nassau is surrounded by Brits and we receive nothing we need to survive. It was a big risk we took, but the families that are locked into the town have no other chance but us,” Ben told him, taking another sip. “They caught us, John. Flint caught us.” A feeling of nausea and horror crept inside Silver, knowing that his husband was able to do, had seen the monster Flint has able to become. “Rogers was aboard the ship Flint commands now. He had Teach…,” Ben hesitated, closing his eyes on the memory of what he had witnessed while he hid on the Dawn. “He had Teach keelhauled.”

Silver’s fingers gripped the edge of the wooden counter. He had once witnessed a keelhauling and he felt like vomiting at the memory of the suffering that went along with this cruel punishment and death.

“They keelhauled him three times, and he still was alive. He was no man to give up like that, there was still fight in him, still life in him, but…,” Ben continued. “Flint ended him. He shot him to end the agony.”

Silver nodded. An act of mercy, without a doubt. Still, Flint had killed a man they all respected and liked, called a friend. The man that had officiated Flint’s and his wedding, had found words that meant the world to him. The grumpy pirate legend that was so human in his opinions that nobody could not like him once they got to know him, a force always to be reckoned with.

“I went into the water and disabled Flint’s rudder, so, in case we could go for an escape he could not hunt us in time. Vane stayed behind after Rackham and Bonny managed to escape. We got away, but at what price, John, at what price?”

Ben drank more of the brandy, while Silver touched absently his ring, the only jewelry he continued to wear, the constant reminder of what could have been.

“Rackham has not stopped drinking in the days until Max and I left Nassau. We can’t count on him leading us, and I pray to God that he does nothing stupid while we are gone. Anne prefers to stay in the background and strike when you don’t count on her.”

“Why are you here, Ben?” Silver asked.

“We need you,” Ben said, his eyes firmly on Silver, who was showing no emotion before he shook his head no, and Ben asked himself if his friend did indeed die with the bullet that Flint had fired at him.

“I can’t…,” Silver then replied, his voice rough.

“We have no other option than you, John. With Teach killed, Vane in prison awaiting his execution, with Billy and Flint gone…,” the Scotsman continued. “We need you to return. We need a leader.” He paused before he said: “We need a king.”


	5. Chapter 5

The following two days had been upsetting for Silver. Upsetting and confusing and putting everything in question he had thought certain.

He had tried to avoid his guests from his previous life as good as he could, but that turned out to be difficult because, without wanting it, he found himself to seek out the company of Ben and Max, who acted guarded around him. Ben must have informed Max that Silver was someone else now, and the beautiful woman played the role of a demure woman of her time, and not the confident and eloquent whore he had come to call friend. She showed shy smiles and lowered lids, sat with a straight back and left Ben the duty to make conversation. They appeared to be a couple, but Silver knew better, by now having known long enough that both preferred the company of their own gender, but that was something nobody was to know or it would mean at least Ben’s certain death.

The afternoon of the third day of their stay, Ben was sitting at the counter, one leg dangling and the hands wrapped around a mug with steaming tea, Max at his side, talking softly to him and prompting him to shake his head. Again he had his hair tied back and looked not like a pirate but like a handsome sailor who a lot of woman would be interested in – like Masie, the young woman who delivered fruit to the inn, a woman who, since Silver had met her, seemed desperate to find a husband.

On this day too, Masie came into the inn. She was pretty, that much was sure, and had nice but not voluptuous curves, a face with large brown eyes and a head full of golden locks, pouty lips and blushing cheeks. The moment Silver saw her, he sighed, standing behind the counter and in a conversation with Mrs. Hawkins, having told Masie more than just once to use the back door when she made her deliveries, on this day a basket full of apples she put on the counter with a loud thud, making the two guests that were sitting there look up at her, disturbed in their conversation with Max having put a hand on Ben’s arm.

“Masie,” Silver said, stepping forward, leaning heavy on his crutch. “A good day to you, would you be a dear and bring those into the kitchen? Mr. Stephens is already waiting for them. He’s going to make pies and you can of course pick one for yourself up later tonight,” he smiled.

The blonde woman batted her eyelashes at him, and it was Ben who raised a brow, already amused. Max had raised both brows, her dark eyes glinting with humor, both immediately aware that the unknown woman was trying to flirt with the innkeeper she knew as William Henley.

“But of course, William,” Maisie said, again batting her lashes, and Silver felt inclined to roll his eyes on her, putting his left hand on the counter, displaying his wedding band, which Maisie immediately noticed but continued to ignore. Instead, she put a hand on his, leaning over the counter, showing her cleavage.

“Maisie…,” Silver only said.

“You are widowed for almost a year, William. When will you be looking for a new wife to keep you company?” She said without hesitation, a conversation not happening for the first time.

“Widowed?” Max could not avoid to ask.

Now Maisie was paying attention to the two strangers, frowning at Max’s beauty, and then looking deep into Ben’s clear eyes, assessing the next possible target.

“Are who are you?” Maisie asked Ben, the voice low in a failed attempt to sound seductive, which made Max chuckle.

“Old friends of mine,” Silver replied for them before they could say something that could compromise his new identity.

“So, did you know William’s wife?”

Ben coupld not hold back a snort.

“Oh yes, we know his…wife,” he said. “A beauty in her own way.”

Silver rolled his eyes.

“So I heard,” Maisie said. “Such a shame she fell victim to pirates.”

Ben nodded, his eyes on Silver, who shrugged.

“The apples, Maisie,” Silver said and pointed his head to the basket.

“Oh, of course,” she said and smiled widely at him, rushing them to get into the kitchen.

“You really should not encourage the girl like this,” Mrs. Hawkins said with a grin.

Silver smiled mischievously and bright.

“Who’s encouraging her? Not my fault she set her eyes on this cripple.”

Mrs. Hawkins huffed and returned to her work.

“Widowed,” Ben stated.

“Could hardly tell her I’m married to a pirate captain, could I? At least being a widower keeps her a little off my back.”

“Not very successfully, cher,” Max said. “John, can we talk?”

He looked at her for a moment, then nodded and lead her outside to the back of the house, passing the kitchen, where Maisie glared in jealousy on the woman that occupied Silver’s time and seemed to be on friendly terms with him.

Outside, he sat down on the wooden bench that overlooked the vegetable garden, and pulled his pipe from a pocket, getting it ready for a smoke, Max taking place next to him.

“We need you,” she said.

“Ben said so. I can’t, Max. I have a new life, without murder and ransacking and hunting,” he replied.

Max nodded.

“I envy you for this life, and I wish I could let you live like this, but I will not.”

He raised his brows.

“You are threatening me?”

“I have no other chance if you don’t leave me a choice. Ben is not fine with my decision, but I will do it if I must,” she continued, the voice low. “I will tell your good people of Bristol who William Henley really is. That one John Silver, pirate, murderer, thief, sodomite lives unrecognized among them and corrupts these honest people with his evil seed.”

“They would hang me,” he only said.

“Like they will hang Vane?” She asked. “They are torturing him in their prison, John. We have word that he is going to be hanged soon, maybe while we are wasting time trying to find a leader that can only be you.”

“Why me?”

“Who else? Anne? She is happy when she is not drawing attention, while she would have every skill needed to lead us. Jack? Since Vane is gone, he is not the same. He is drinking all too much and he is beside himself, and I can only assume that he will do something very stupid. If he gets the Dawn ready and attacks them on his own, Anne will follow them, and you know what it is like to lose someone you love dearly. You have lost, Ben has lost, Jack is losing, I do not want to lose my Anne as well,” she said. “Don’t make me force you, John. Please.” A single tear ran down her cheek that she wiped away. “We all lost too much already. There are families in Nassau that need you, your men, the men that will not follow any of us, but they will follow John Silver blindly.”

“Even after what I did?”

“Even after what you did. We all are selfish in love, and you did not want to lose Flint. So you lied hoping and praying to keep him for yourself. When you had nothing, you had him.”

He nodded.

“I think about it.”

She stood up, brushing off her dress.

“Think fast. We are leaving in two days, with or without you.”

* * * * * * * * * * *

Three days later, John Silver stood at the railing of the Hispaniola, one hand on the wood, the nose in the wind and his hair flying freely, the eyes closed in peace. The salty air reminded him of the many years he had spent on board the Walrus, the only place he ever dared to call home. A home, not even the Spyglass had been able to provide for him.

Now that he was returning to Nassau, to do what his family and friends needed of him, no matter what that would entitle. He would go through hell and fire for them, that much was certain, and even though he left the safety of England for the danger of a pirate’s life, he was at peace. Finally.

He had come clean towards Mrs. Hawkins before he left, had told her who he really was and that he would most likely never return. She had listened to his story, of who he was, and what he did, and who he loved. And when he expected her to yell at him, to cry, to scream, to call for authorities and have him arrested, she had taken his hand and smiled softly, like the friend she had become in the last year.

And then she had said: “I know.”

She had not known the details of who he was, nor his name. But she had sensed for a long time that there was more to him than what he let on. And she understood that the burden on his soul, that made him moody and always surrounded him like a dark cloud he could not fight off, could only be defeated if he returned to the uncertain fate of the pirate he would always be.

He had given Mrs. Hawkins a letter that he had drawn by a solicitor and that declared the widow the sole owner of the Spyglass. She had refused to accept this gift, but then had under John’s promise that he would write her and they would always stay friends. She had brought him to the harbor the morning he, Ben and Max departed, hugged him tightly with both tears in their eyes. Jim had stayed away, upset that his fatherly friend would leave him, and Silver understood him. He though wished to have been able to say goodbye to the boy he would most likely never see again.

They boarded the ship and now were on their way back to the Caribbean. Back to Nassau. Back home.

A presence made him open his eyes and he found Ben stand next to him, leaning his forearms on the railing.

“It feels weird to be only passenger on a ship, doesn’t it?” Silver asked, noticing how nervous Ben was.

“Want to show the men how it’s done better,” Ben smiled. “Can’t wait to feel her planks under my feet again.”

Silver nodded.

“I didn’t think I would return one day I miss Nassau, who would’ve known.”

Ben’s smile was gentle and he tilted his head a little, the ponytail gone and his strands again running wild in the wind.

“Do you miss him?”

Silver’s eyes were on the sea.

“Every second. Every single second,” he said. “When you lose a limb, there is always the memory of what it felt when you still had it. I can still feel my foot, my toes. My calf cramps even though it’s not there anymore. I want to rub it and scratch it when it itches, but there is nothing left to do that,” he said. “It is the same with James. No, it’s worse. I feel him. Standing here, I feel like turning around and seeing him standing up there on the top deck, the coat in the wind, his eyes stern on the sea or his next target, so strong and so…unforgiven. He will never forgive me. What is happening to Nassau, to you all, it is my fault, even though you never said so. It is only fair that I come and try to make it somehow better. Not sure I have the power to do so. But yes, I miss him, James Flint will always be a part of me, and that part has been torn out and I can still feel him by my side. I…,”

“Mister Henley!” A sailor shouted, coming closer, a little breathless. “The captain wants to talk to you, there is a problem he needs to address to you!”

Silver turned around, frowning, and gave Ben a look that spoke of confusion, but both men followed the sailor until they reached the captain and one of his officers in the lower deck, where they were standing next to some supply crates.

“Captain Smollet?” Silver asked, his leg aching from the fast pace the sailor had put forward. “You wanted to talk to me?”

The captain, redfaced and significantly upset, glared at him, while the officer behind him grinned and could hardly hold back laughter.

“It seems, Mister Henley,” the captain started. “That the apples have been befallen by some parasite you could maybe explain to me?”

Silver frowned and stepped closer, looking into the barrel.

His eyes widened.

“Jim?”


	6. Chapter 6

Silver was angry.

No, he was furious.

He was brooding and did not let his anger show except for being abnormally tightlipped and did hardly speak a word during their arranged passage from the harbor they landed in to Nassau that was surrounded by British ships and soldiers. The journey was not without danger, especially considering that they were an unlikely quartet of a woman, a cripple, a child and a man who was trotting along with them, trying to protect them all somehow. Ben shielded Jim from Silver’s annoyed and angry glances, while Max, who had changed into men’s clothing and stuffer her hair under a hat, crowded the boy in almost a motherly fashion.

Jim still didn’t know where their journey would lead, and it may had been too dangerous and Silver should have sent Jim straight back home, instead he had written a letter to Jim’s mother, though the boy assured him he had left her a letter behind himself, and decided they would take him with them to Nassau, where maybe death would await him. But he knew, that Jim would jump off any ship they could put him on, desperate for the adventure that awaited him, and he remembered the boy he had been once himself, Solomon, who had jumped out of the orphanage’s window looking for adventure himself. Not that he would ever tell Jim that.

Instead, he gave the boy the impression that he was absolutely annoyed with him.

It took them two days more to reach the wall of the fort, and Ben went alone forward to request entry, not being able to be certain that Nassau was still theirs.

Silent and fearful minutes passed after Ben knocked until a small spyhole was opened and Silver watched Ben say something and then nod. The door opened a little and Ben waved at them, and the three of them rushed forward.

The man behind the door, a gun in his hands, looked at them, smiled at Max and frowned at Jim, and then stared surprised at Silver. Dooley. One of his own crew, who nodded at him, the eyes large.

“The men won’t believe me when I tell them,” he said.

“It is no secret I am back,” Silver said. “You ought to tell them that John Silver is back to take his place.”

Dooley nodded.

“Let’s go,” Silver told Ben to lead the way through the Nassau streets.

Faces along the way went pale at the recognition of the man with the crutch, Silver wanted to lower his head but decided to stand tall and proud. He had returned to give these people hope, and a weak man could not do that.

Jim was wide eyed, stopped here and there for a moment to look at something, and then rushed to keep step with the only three people he knew here. The heat was something he had not expected, so different from the summer heat of England he was accustomed too. It was not only hot, it was wet and the air somehow sticky. Everything felt like a dream to the boy, who walked close behind Silver, next to Max, who had taken one of his hands in hers, trying to give him confidence. He knew now that Ben Gunn was a pirate himself, a sailor and trusted man of the man he had known as William Henley, and that Max, who never gave her full name if she had one, was a whore. Silver was fascinated that there was no prejudice in the boy, and that he listened to the stories Max told him about the good times they had spent in Nassau before the war. The true story of the Urca de Lima, which made Jim gasp in sheer wonder, the story about Ben’s fate while being held captive by the maroons, by the story how Silver had lost his leg. There were things they had not told him yet, and especially Silver did not want to give more away about himself than he had to.

It took some time until they reached their final destination, the brothel.

As usual the frontdoors stood wide open and first Ben and Max went through, Silver and next to him Jim staying a little behind.

Jim watched wide eyed how Max rushed in, the hat falling from her head and a red haired, equally beautiful women jumped from the chair she had been sitting on, rushed towards her, and without words needed their lips met in a heated kiss, both having tears on their faces. Silver was surprised that Anne allowed herself to let this emotion out, holding her Max tight in her arms, whispering something into her ear, making Max giggle, the eyes closed and her head on Anne’s shoulder. Silver watched with curiosity how Jim would react to the realization that Max and Anne were together in a quite not platonic way. The boy shifted, showing a little nervousness, from one foot to the other.

Anne, looking over Max’s shoulder, looked at Silver. The eyes assessing him with her typical unreadable expression. Then she nodded slowly, and Silver gave her a nod back.

Silver took this moment to look around.

It was too silent for the place they were in. The brothel that Silver held still in his memory, had been a rushed and crowded place, voices, chattering, giggling girls and occasional shouts here and there. But now, it was almost completely still.

The men that were around minded their own business. Resignated men that held onto the glasses and bottles of spirit in their hands and on their tables, the girls paying them attention without enthusiasm or emotion. It was like time had taken the life out of the place, and once more, Silver was made painfully aware that Flint had been the soul to a lot of things, not only to him. It was his fault, and he was the one to fix this. The only one to fix this.

But then anger rose in him, his eyes darkening.

These men had not needed him.

They had not needed him before he appeared in their lives, they had not needed him to fix what he broke. They were pirates, fighters, and strong men. Yet, they were nothing without a leader, not able to fight for what was theirs on their own. And it upset him tremendously that they had not had the strength, the desperation and the determination to fight for their home and lives without him.

A clutter stopped his way of thoughts and he looked up, still standing in the shadows of the doorway.

Jack Rackham appeared on the balcony at the top of the stairs, a shadow of the men he had known a year ago. He looked like he had not washed for weeks, and his smart eyes looked empty and without any life left in them. In his hand he held a bottle, his step was swaying and showed clearly that he was not sober.

“Ah, you’re back,” he said, the tongue heavy. “How nice of you to return to our humble home.”

He made a wide gesture.

“The honorable Captain Flint has shot his cannons on our walls, and he has taken some more of our lives. Isn’t that nice of him after we gave him a party just before he deserted to fight for the redcoats?”

Silver winced at the mention of James’ name, but kept his shoulders high and his muscles tense.

“Jack,” Ben said.

“I guess his highness had no intention of coming to our rescue then,” Rackham continue, making his way down the stairwell while taking another sips from his bottle, stopping in front of Ben, leaning in close to the other man. “We should just fire at ourselves, it would save us all a lot of effort, don’t you think?”

Silver took this moment to step out of the shadows that had been hiding him. His metal peg leg made an unmistakable sound on the floor and cause every single soul in the brothel to look at him.

Eyes widened.

Mouths went agape.

Men struggled to sit up right.

Jack let his bottle fall to the ground and stared open mouthed at the man he had not expected to return to his certain death to fight for them, to fight with them.

Silver made a step forward, went down the three steps that lead to the center of the room, the crutch left behind, showing power, showing the men their leader.

He turned in a circle, taking in all the faces around. Cowards. All of them. Unable to protect what they held dear, their home, those they loved.

“So,” he said to those remains of the men he had once called friends. “This is the place where cowards come to beg forgiveness from a king.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Flint and Thomas.

Flint sat on the edge of the bed, leaned forward, his arms resting on his legs.

He remembered that he had sat similar to this in the past, sitting there while Thomas had read to him from his favorite books, planting in him the seed of the booklover he had become. It had been moments of happiness, of bliss, but not tonight.

Tonight, he was sitting there, cold sweat on his forehead, his hands constantly in the hair that he allowed to grow back, the cheeks flushed and his hands trembling. Shame and humiliation was what he felt and not the contentment of past times. He was embarrassed, and not for the first time in this past year, since the occurrence of the past hours was something that had kept him company.

Thomas’ hand found his back, and the other man sat up, resting his head against James’ shoulder and taking in the scent of the captain.

“Do not do this to you, James,” he said. “It is not your fault.”

Flint’s eyebrows moved together in a frown. The taste of anger and self-hate flooding his throat.

“If not mine, whose fault could it be?”

He turned to look at Thomas, clean-shaven and the hair only a little mussed from touching it. As gorgeous as he had been all those years ago. There were scars on his body, that told the story of the pain and torture he had gone through in the asylum and on the plantation, but neither of those strokes and hits had been able to break the gentle soul of the man that would always be in his heart.

Thomas’ raised a brow and a smirk came to his lips.

“Really?” He asked. “How about it’s me?”

Flint let out a sigh.

“Hardly,” he said, the voice not much more than a whisper, calming a little under the touch of Thomas’ stroking hand on his back.

“James,” Thomas said after seconds of silence between them. “James, will you look at me?”

Only hesitantly, Flint turned around, twisting his body at the hip, without moving from the position he was sitting in. He wished he could allow himself the weakness to just cry, like he sometimes did when he was alone, but he would not allow anyone, not even Thomas to witness the weakness in him, the damage that had been done to him. It was bad enough that Thomas had to witness…this.

“I love you. You must know that,” Thomas continued, one leg angled and still touching James freckled skin. “If this is not an option between us anymore, in the way it has been, then I will be content in sharing anything else with you. There is no pressure, and there are no demands in love, James. Know that I will always love you, no matter how.”

Flint nodded, but did not dare to look at Thomas but at an empty spot somewhere behind him. Why couldn’t he just break down, crawl into Thomas’ arms and allow himself to feel anything but this crippling anger?

“I know that,” he replied.

“Then why can’t you look into my eyes anymore? Do you think me so much less of a man that I cannot emphasize what you are feeling?”

“Then tell me. What am I feeling?”

Thomas tilted the head a little.

“You feel defeated. You feel betrayed. You feel like you don’t know what to feel anymore, and it blockades everything that you want to feel instead. It’s like a wall you have built around your heart and your soul. Once, you have felt shame for being in love. Now, you feel…you feel furious. This war Rogers has dragged you into, it is only the means to let out this uncontrolled rage, and maybe, if you allow yourself to feel this rage, then you can stop being Flint and be James again. My James. My love.”

Flint stared at him, the eyes empty though, as if Thomas was not really there. The words he had chosen, they made sense and at the same time not at all. He was not James anymore, not the James Thomas had known, like Thomas was no longer the Thomas he had been.

And yet, he wanted to be that man again, wanted to forget what had changed him. Wanted to forget being Captain James Flint, wanted to forget the murder and thievery of the Walrus crew, wanted to forget Miranda’s death, wanted to forget…wanted to forget Silver.

He turned back around, the eyes closed again.

More moments of silence passed between the two men.

“You are thinking of him,” Thomas stated, no question in his voice.

Flint looked at his left hand. The band of silver and rose gold still there, mocking him. He touched the ring and only nodded.

“Is that why you…why you and me cannot be together anymore like before?”

“I don’t love him,” Flint said, the voice cold, turning around when he heard Thomas’ soft laughter.

Thomas had leaned against the headboard, one long leg drawn up and a hand resting on his knee, the blue eyes filled with the mischief and intelligence he had always admired in the other man.

“What are you laughing at?” Flint almost snapped, which did not stop Thomas from laughing and then giving Flint a soft and gentle smile.

“You have always been a bad liar, but even you should notice that you are lying to yourself,” he said. “I have met John Silver only once, on the beach while he was running away from you shooting him on the spot, and what I saw was a man who was falling apart. And not for a lie he told you, but because he knew that moment that he was losing everything dear in his life.” Flint again frowned. “You think of him every day.”

“Yes, I do. I think of killing him and making him pay for what he took from me.”

“Then tell me, what did he take from you?”

Flint’s eyes became slits.

“He took away the choice, Thomas. He took away to make the choice who to love.”

Thomas’ smile became sad and knowing, but not defeated.

“And tell me, James, what would your choice have been?”

James looked at the ring on his hand, and he had no answer to Thomas question.

* * * * * * * * * * *

The next morning, after another sleepless night that Flint had spent in his own room, he was ordered to join Rogers in his office. He expected to find new orders for the next strike against the pirates, or finally a decision on the fate of Charles Vane who still was locked away in prison. He though was surprised to find not only Rogers in the office that was elegantly furnished, sitting behind his desk, but also Eleanor Guthrie, the face without emotion, and Thomas, who sat opposite Rogers, leaned back and an amused expression on his face. Flint had long ago realized that Thomas, while fearing Rogers’ power, did not take the man himself all too serious and despised him tremendously. So much, he almost expected Thomas to start with childish pranks, like he often thought about out loud when they shared intimacy in one of their rooms.

“Captain McGraw,” Rogers said, pointing to the empty chair next to Thomas, but Flint remained standing up straight, one hand on his back. He still wore the black that had become customary to Captain Flint, and not the uniform that Rogers would have liked him see wear.

Rogers nodded.

“The pirates of Nassau have sent a dispatch with an announcement. I’d like to think that there is a subtle threat in their words,” he said without being prompted to, and took the letter that he had received this morning.

“Addressed to Woodes Rogers, privateer of His Majesty King George of England, and Captain James McGraw,” Rogers started. “We, the free men and women of Nassau, hereby declare independence from His Majesty’s influence on our fates and the ways our lives may take. It has come a time, after being subjected to an unwanted war that has been brought upon ourselves, to cut all ties to a country and realm that wants nothing but our deaths. We will fight for what is ours, and give not up hope until the last of us lets out their last breath, for freedom, peace and the happiness every human being strives for. We demand immediate termination of all acts of war that endanger the population of our home. Should you not comply with our wishes, we will strike back only in defense, but not in attack. Do not underestimate our strength and our will to survive. In order to ensure the unification of all people of Nassau under one flag,” Rogers paused, raising his brows, while Flint frowned. “One flag, isn’t that uncommon for pirates?” He asked before he continued: “…unification of all people of Nassau under one flag, we have elected among ourselves for an archon to lead us under his command and his rules. To protect us under his flag and under his will and leadership.”

Flint grew tense. Thomas, who sensed how Flint’s nervousness grew, looked at him.

Rogers put the letter down.

“This mockery of a pamphlet is signed with John Silver, king of all pirates of Nassau.”

Flint thought for a moment time had stopped and he stopped breathing.

“I expect an immediate strike against this, McGraw. Get your ship ready,” Rogers demanded, prompting Flint to nod and leave the room without a word.

“Excuse me,” Thomas said and followed him, finding James down the hallway, leaning his hands against a wall and trying to breathe. He put a hand on his shoulder that caused James to look up.

“He did all this to become this,” Flint whispered. “He fucking made himself a king.”

Fury flooded his eyes and he grabbed a vase and threw it against a wall, making Thomas wince.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long-awaited return of Billy Bones, and Silver making a fateful decision.

Flint’s coxswain Will steered his flagship into the harbor, while the captain stood on the top deck, the feet apart in a firm stance, unmoving, both hands on his back, like a statue. He was showing no emotion, no sign of distress or the turmoil that was going on behind his eyes, and that not one of the men serving him could suspect of the stoic and legendary captain who was commanding them.

As soon as they had docked, Flint went down the stairs and down into the captain’s cabin that still did not feel like his own. It was well furnished, but there were no books, not his suspended bed he slept well in, not his desk with the clutter of trinkets and things. Not Silver to annoy him. The walls were dark and swallowed all light, not the airy and light room he had called home aboard the Walrus. He missed his ship, he missed his men, not that he would ever admit that.

He took something from the desk, not even paying attention what it was, and threw it against the nearest wall, his usual way to let out steam, wanting to scream to break down and cry, and yet he would not allow himself any of that. He leaned over the desk, both hands flat on the surface, and panted.

He had seen the Walrus. He almost attacked her. He almost had cannons fired at the ship that he still remembered as his home, but the last minute he had not given the order.

But then he had seen it.

The flag at her mast.

A flag he had not seen before.

It was a copy of the flag that he had risen, back then. The black with the skeleton holding an hour-glass and a sword. Only the skeleton now was wearing a crown.

Indicating that someone of power was now commanding his ship, using it as his flagship.

A king.

Silver.

He had been so close, and he knew he should have fired his cannons and put the Walrus, the crew and the pirate king, who had taken his throne now four weeks ago, into the ground. He would have to justify himself for not going that way towards Rogers, but there had not been the strength in him to do that. Weakness. Again. He hated being weak, and he could not allow himself to be seen like that.

A knock on the door calmed him for a second, and he looked up, brows knit together.

“Come in,” he said, and the door opened.

The towering figure of Billy Bones entered the cabin, a beard on the still young face of the boy he had taken from a crew that had once abused him. A son to him, another thing to never admit. Instead he seemed indifferent about the bosun who had followed him only days after he became Rogers’ weapon in the war against the pirates of Nassau.

Billy waited a moment, the door closed behind him, and Flint looked at him, taking his place behind the desk.

“Any orders, captain?” Billy asked.

Flint continued to look at him.

“No. Get her ready to leave again as soon as we are get restocked,” Flint said, face and voice without emotion.

Billy nodded and got ready to leave his captain.

“A word,” Flint then said and prompted Billy to turn back around.

“Captain?”

“Why did you go with me?”

Billy raised a brow.

“Beg pardon?”

“Why did you leave your home with the Walrus and join me on my new mission with Rogers?”

Billy frowned a moment.

“You have always been my captain, the only captain I ever served and who did not…things to me,” he said. “Yes, you tried to kill me, and we are not friends, but I follow my captain wherever he will go. I will follow you to the end of the world.”

Flint gave him a nod.

“What about Ben Gunn?” He then asked. “I know you and he found each other the day before…”

“It meant nothing. He means nothing,” Billy said. “I made perfectly clear what I think about men being with men, it was a moment of weakness, and I convinced myself that the attention Ben gave me, and the pretty face he is carrying around are enough to change me, but I thought about that after you left, and he…he means nothing to me.” He hesitated. “What about you and John?”

“You are in no position to ask about that,” was all Flint said with a wave of his hand, indicating he wanted Billy to leave, and the bosun got ready to leave the cabin. “I fell in love with a lie. And I could not love the truth behind that lie,” he then added.

Billy’s hand was already on the door handle, getting ready to leave, but then he said before he did: “I will never lie to you.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Silver rubbed his face with both hands.

“He fucking blew up the western part of town!” Jack yelled. “We have to do something!”

The blue eyes that looked up to the captain of the Colonial Dawn were tired and sad.

“And what do you supposed what we do?”

“The bloody redcoats have cut off part of town. There are families there that now have no access to fresh water or food!” Jack continued to yell, not helping the headache Silver had for the last days. “We are at the end!”

“Do you really think I don’t know that? They attacked the bloody town while Flint baited us into a seabattle.”

“Which we won, Jack,” Silver said, the voice as calm as he could make it appear without giving away how upset he indeed was. “We cannot fight at several fronts at the same time.”

“We cannot fight at all, not on land, John,” Ben said, sitting next to Silver, twisting a glass with a liquor in it in his hand without drinking from it. “We stand a good chance at sea, with the Ranger, the Dawn, the Revenge and the Walrus being able to defend us at the same time. We have some of the best captains of the seven seas with us…”

“But the best is sadly one of _them_,” Silver said, the voice silent. “He is a genius tactician, and we are not soldiers like he once was. We defend when we need to attack.”

“Are you suggesting to attack the british navy?” Ben asked. “That’s insane.”

“Is any of the things we do here sane?” Silver asked. “I’m an orphan from Whitechapel, nameless, my mother probably a whore who did not abort me in time. And yet you made me king. How is that something reasonable?”

“He has a point there,” Jack said, now sitting down next to Anne, who witnessed the exchange between the men.

“We need to do something about the families,” she then said. “There will be children starving. Children who are our responsibility. I don’t know about you, but I would be having a hard time finding sleep if we let that happen.”

She got up and left without any of them getting the chance to reply.

“She has a point,” Ben said. “I will not let children and families starve. That is what makes us different from what Rogers does. We care about ours.”

Silver nodded, watching his best friend intently.

“You miss him,” he said then.

Ben smiled, still looking not up but at the glass in his hands.

“I do.”

“We will get him back, Ben,” Silver continued and put a hand on Ben’s wrist. “I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Rackham said, taking a drink himself.

“I can’t promise to get Vane back. But I can promise that I will do everything in my power to at least try. And I will die trying,” Silver told him.

Rackham allowed himself a little smile.

“Here we are, a bunch of idiots in love with men we might never see again in our lives,” he said, raising his glass. “To idiots in love.”

Silver chuckled, while Ben frowned.

“Did you just admit to be in love with Vane?” He asked.

Rackham lowered his glass and looked at the sailor.

“Goddammit,” he laughed. “It would seem I did.”

The three men laughed a moment together, but then Silver took a sip of his drink, and got up, leaning on his crutch.

“Contact Madi. We need the maroons on our side, we need them to fight for us and for freedom. Promise me you will take care of Jim,” he told Ben with a look towards the boy that was always in his close proximity.

“Jack,” he continued addressed Rackham. “There are letters that Max keeps for me. Be a better king than I have been.”

And with that, he got ready to leave the building, but Ben and Jack went after him, followed by Jim who showed fearful eyes.

“What are you planning on doing?”

“I will meet with Rogers,” Silver smiled sadly. “He will not be able to resist to get a king in exchange for a few families that are no use to him.”


	9. Chapter 9

“You did what?” Flint yelled at Rogers, not wincing in the slightest at his own subordination and glared at the privateer. “You cannot honestly believe it was a good idea to fire cannons at Nassau.”

He noticed how Billy, who was standing behind his chair, grew tense the moment that Rogers told them with a smile that while he had Flint engage in a seafight with the pirate king’s small fleet two more of his ships had approached Nassau to fire at the town, destroying part of the fortress’ walls and killing innocent townsfolk.

“And why, do tell me, Captain McGraw,” Rogers continued. “Was that not a good idea? The pirates are distracted enough now for us to plan a military strike and disarm them for good. This means victory.”

“This means murder,” Flint said, upset that Rogers still was using his given name instead of the chosen one he carried.

“Those are enemies of the British crown, criminals,” Rogers said without emotion.

Flint almost felt physically how Billy winced, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, the breath hitched.

“Do you have anything to say, Mister Manderly?” Rogers asked his bosun.

Billy went rigid.

“No, sir,” he reply. “Nothing to say.”

“Good.”

Flint had turned to look at Billy, seeing how he bit his lip, a sign that Billy was holding back what bothered him, but he knew better than to address those worries.

“Is that all, Captain McGraw?” Rogers asked.

“No, that is not all,” Flint said. “There are families in Nassau, innocent people who have to hand in the war you…we are fighting against the pirates. With the locations that was fired on, we can assume that part of the town has been cut off from the rest of Nassau, leaving those people even more vulnerable. We must…”

“We must wait and adapt,” Rogers said, still that smile on his face. “We will wait until they are even more weakened, until they concentrate all their forces on helping their people to survive, and that will be the moment to attack them and win this farce.”

“This farce has cost already enough lives,” Thomas said, who had until now remained silent and had only listened to the exchange between Flint and Rogers. “It cannot be the wish of the crown to kill innocents who are subjects to our king.”

“But they are not, Lord Hamilton,” Rogers said, a glare on Thomas. “They subjected themselves to _their_ elected king. They are the enemy.”

“How can children be enemies, I ask you?”

“Children follow the footsteps of their parents. It is better to erase the evil seed before they grow into something worse.”

“I question your sanity, Mister Rogers. If what James and William say is true, if that part of town holds the only school, an orphanage and other than that only quarters for families, then what you ordered was a strike not only against the innocent,” he leaned forward, the eyes drilling holes into the privateer. “You made them stronger in their rage, in their wish to avenge their fallen.” He leaned back again, and Flint noticed that smile on his lips that showed his superiority and that subtle arrogance of aristocracy that Thomas showed even after all these years. “You created an enemy whose steps you no longer can anticipate, Mister Rogers. You created something unpredictable. We can assume that there no longer will be a risk they will not take to ensure the further safety. They have nothing to lose anymore, and that is what makes them far more dangerous than they have ever been. The only right step would have been to weaken them, and not demolish them beyond repair.”

Rogers had leaned back in his chair and watched Thomas while he spoke with growing annoyance.

“Who made you an expert on war, Lord Hamilton?”

“Experience, and a profound knowledge of the human nature,” Thomas replied, aware that all eyes were on him.

“Those people are barely human, mylord.”

“You are talking about men, women, children, the old and the young, wounded people, people in need,” Billy finally snapped. “Yes, they may are the enemy, but how would you feel if England was attacked and the enemy would aim to wound just the people who just want to live and are not engaging in the war themselves?”

Thomas, Flint and Rogers looked at the tall man, who went still and lowered his head after his outburst.

“I apologize,” he said demure.

Rogers did not give him another reply, showing him that he was nothing to him, just an asset. Flint was slightly amused, without showing it, that Billy always went underestimated, despite his size, seeming so meek and submissive, when he knew that there were temper, loyalty and strength brooding behind that dark eyes that were unmatched in any man he had ever gotten to know.

“Get your ship ready to leave as soon as possible,” Rogers said, getting up. “I want you to attack Nassau from sea side again, until the town is nothing but ruins.”

Flint frowned, Thomas wanted to say something, but the captains’s hand on his arm did stop him, as did the servant who entered uninvited and handed Rogers an envelope, which the privateer opened and read, the face stern until there was a gleam in his eyes that Flint somehow did not like.

“The king suggests a meeting to discuss the further outcome of this war,” Rogers said, making Flint’s blood freeze in his veins. “He wants to meet with me and a delegation of my choice tomorrow.”

Thomas looked at Flint, looking for a reaction, but his lover was holding back any emotion, the jaw clenched and the eyes looking into emptiness. But he knew what was going on behind those eyes, he knew what was causing this storm in Flint’s thoughts.

They would meet Silver.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Silver and his delegation of trusted men approached the meeting place on the beach from the East, having chosen this point for it not being able to hide anything. There would be no sharpshooters from either of them, no boats or ships able to approach unnoticed. It would give him relative safety until he had done what he must.

He was not certain who he would meet there, if Rogers risked him and Flint at the same spot, but he was prepared for the worst outcome. He had left Max with instructions, should they not return, had sent out letters.

The men that went with him, riding behind a man who had to rely on a peg leg and a crutch when not on horseback, did not say a word. The mood between them was that of a funeral, and that was what this was.

A funeral.

Silver knew he would not get out of this alive, and he did not care.

It was destined for him to die on a beach it seemed, he should have died on a similar beach more than a year ago, the day after he was wed, when the man he had loved had aimed at his head and missed because someone he had not even called a friend had thrown himself in the line of fire and saved his life. If not for Vane, he would have ended that day with a bullet between his eyes.

Getting closer to the meeting point he had suggested, he saw that Rogers’ party had already arrived and was waiting for them. Right behind him were Rackham, Bonny and Ben, three sailor and after having not been able to shake him off, Jim, who only slowly understood that the man he had obviously chosen as a surrogate father would not return with them to Nassau after this meeting would be over. They had to turn around twice after Jim had followed them and then Silver had just resignated and allowed the boy with a glare to accompany them. If he died on a beach in an ambush or back in Nassau, it would make no difference anymore. He was not able to protect him anymore, any further.

Silver did not focus on the men waiting before he had stopped his horse and slid off the saddle, landing as secure as possible on his peg leg and turned, a clap on the flank prompting the horse to move away, while his company did the same. Ben had one hand ready on the sabre he was wearing in his belt, Rackham was assessing the situation and Anne had both hands on her daggers, once more ready to slay and fight. Jim got close to Silver, the wide eyes on the men waiting for them.

He focused on Rogers when he approached, standing there in a dominant pose and smiling like the bastard he was. Behind him were a group of five redcoats, and three more men that Silver knew by name.

“Billy…,” Ben whispered beside him, seeing his former lover for the first time in many months, and the blue eyes immediately lit with hope and desperation, but a hand on his body stopped him from rushing forward and getting himself into a situation he would not be able to escape.

“He is with them now, brother,” Silver said, half loud, shaking his head slowly, the eyes sad while Ben was eager to run forward, every muscle in his body ready to push away from Silver, but the sad eyes of his best friend stopped him and he nodded.

“You’re right,” he said, the eyes still on Billy, who stared back, but without showing any of the thoughts going on in his head.

Silver took in the other men.

Thomas Hamilton. He wore no hat like his status as a Lord would have demanded, but his short blond hair was mussed by the wind coming from the sea. His face was clean shaven. The man that held Flint’s heart over so many years, was taller than Silver had thought and wiry yet not thin, with broad shoulders and long, slender legs. Without any question he was an attractive, almost beautiful man, and Silver had no chance but understand that it must have been easy for Flint to fall in love with him. He was looking with curiosity at Silver, the head a little tilted, assessing the man that had held Flint’s heart for a short time and had broken it.

And then…there was Flint. James.

Like he remembered him, he wore black. The long leather coat he had worn almost as long as he had known him. His hair had grown back a little, not yet long enough to tie back, but the strands were long enough to fall into his forehead and shine in the sun like polished copper. The eyes, green today, were on Silver. And unlike the other men, who tried to show little emotion, there was hatred in them. Still, and maybe forever.

Silver turned shortly to his men and nodded, making then steps forward and stopped a few feet away from Rogers, supported by his crutch.

“Mister Silver,” Rogers said, with something like a smile that looked feral. “Or should I call you Your Highness. What is it with you that every time we meet I don’t know how to address you.”

“Silver will do fine,” he replied.

Rogers allowed himself to nod once.

“You asked for this meeting. So please satisfy our curiosity and tell us what you want from us? Water? Food? The British crown?”

The man laughed, thinking himself to have made a funny joke, but nobody else laughed with him, instead Flint glared at him and even Hamilton raised a brow.

“No,” Silver said, his eyes on Flint for a moment. Their eyes locked, in a silent understanding like they had done so many times before, when they had fought side by side. He noticed how Flint got tense, how he seemed to anticipate that something was about to happen. “I have come to as for an armistice so the people of the damaged area of Nassau can be treated and brought into safety.”

Rogers let out a chuckle.

“And why would we do that?” He asked.

Flint had move closer to Hamilton, ready to protect the unarmed man should something happen, one hand on his gun, but Silver nodded at him.

“That is not necessary, James,” he said. “He have not come to engage in a fight.”

“Then, what have you come here for?” Flint asked.

“I have come to offer an exchange for the families,” noticing how Jim went close behind him, touching his arm.

“Mister Silver?” The boy asked.

Silver turned around, bending only little down to be on the same height as the teenager.

“You will be safe, Jim. Do as Ben and Mister Rackham say, and everything will be good. I promise. It has been a joy and pleasure to have known you, and if I had a son, I would have wanted him to be like you. You’re a good boy, Jim Hawkins. And you will be a good man,” Silver felt tears well up. Again, stupid weakness.

He blinked them away and turned back around to Rogers. Flint was staring at him and the unknown boy, not sure what to make of the words Silver had told him.

“And what could you offer in exchange?”

“I want you to ensure that the families and people of the damaged area will get safe passage to Nassau, where we will take care of them, or if they should choose to, into your custody. I expect no interference of soldiers or armed forces of any kind,” he said, the voice strong and with the soft singsong of his accent that always had the power to sweet-talk anyone. “In exchange,” he hesitated, seeing realization creep into Flint’s eyes, shock and disbelief. “I give you the king of the free people of Nassau as your prisoner. I will give you myself.”


	10. Chapter 10

Silver was surprised that they did not lock him up in a prison cell the moment they arrived in the fortress that Rogers occupied, but brought him into a room, were they told him to wait and clean up. The servant that brought perfumed water wrinkled his nose at the sight of the pirate king, and hurried out of the room as fast as he could, probably scared that Silver would kill him there and then.

He washed his face and hands, and stood at the window, looking out over the bay. He could not see Nassau from here, it was too far away. It had taken almost two days to make their way back here, and his navigational skill were bad enough to not even know in which direction Nassau was. Flint would be amused by his lack of knowledge, had often made fun of him for being such a bad sailor and pirate, but his qualities were elsewhere. Sweet-talking himself out of trouble, worming his way into the heads of men and women. Flint once had told him that he was not welcome in his mind, but still, he and Flint had become a unit, unbreakable it had seemed, no matter what happened between them. How wrong that had been.

Silver sighed and sat down on the chair that was standing next to the window, his hand immediately on his leg. The muscles in his left thigh were hard as rock, and had been cramping constantly for the last days, since he had made the decision. He hoped that his friends back in Nassau would do as he had requested. He prayed that Rogers would keep his word and let the volunteers work who would by now be trying to help the people that had been cut off. The damage they had been able to see from their part of town had been devastating. Houses and wall had been shattered, there were only little movement from what they could see, and he feared that there were more fatalities than they anticipated.

He was certain that Rogers would not let him live. Why should he? He was the enemy, the personification of evil in Rogers’ world, so his death was inevitable. Flint had ignored him on their passage back to the fortress, while Hamilton at least sometimes had looked at him, still curious, and he knew that he was probably the first “real” pirate Hamilton had the chance to meet, no matter what the man had been through. He suspected that he did not see Flint as such, being still “his” James, but Silver was something entirely different. Hamilton had watched his movements, and when he had struggled to get off his horse, the leg stiff by now and cramping badly, it had been Hamilton who made a movement that had Silver for a moment believe the Lord wanted to come to his aid, but was stopped by Flint who moved between them as if he wanted to shield Hamilton from the filth that Silver was to him.

The soldiers had brought Silver then into this room, had locked him in, and he had no idea what would happen now, why he was not in a prison cell, why he was not just shot in an instant. He suspected Rogers wanted to make an example out of him, showing that he was still having the upper hand against the pirates of Nassau, having their king in his custody. His death was only a question of time.

Silver hated pain. He had a very low tolerance for it, and losing his leg still caused nightmares. He shivered by the knowledge that Rogers would have a lot of fun causing him physical pain, probably would get off at his screams, but no. He would be strong, for his men. He would not show the privateer that he was suffering, and he would not show him that he was weak and breaking slowly apart already.

It took more than two hours until he was collected and again two redcoats brought him downstairs again, into a room with a long table, at which seven people sat. He recognized Rogers. He saw James and Hamilton, who both had cleaned up, the other three were unknown to him. The clothing of one of the two men let him suspect that he was a navy captain, the other wore the elegant clothing of a rich man, the woman opposite of him wore her hair in elegant curls and the fanciest dress of silk that Silver had ever seen. Not even in London had he seen dresses like that and he came to the conclusion that that was the kind of dress those fine ladies wore behind the closed doors of their homes or at parties.

He stood in the door, shoved forward by one of the redcoats and stumbled a little, making Flint look up from conversation, the eyes widening slightly.

“What does that mean?” He asked, directed at Rogers.

Rogers smiled. A smile that Silver never could himself bring to like.

“But why, Captain McGraw, His Highness is our guest of honor.”

He waved a hand and the redcoat shoved Silver into one of the chairs, where he sat down and frowned at the plate in front of him, decorated with fine food that did smell divine. Still, he did not pick up the cutlery and dug in like his hunger wanted him to, but remained silent and without movement.

“Lord Cavendish, Lady Charlotte, Captain Hampstead, may I introduce to you Mister John Silver, the king of pirates,” Rogers said, and Silver understood that he was being showed off like a new pet.

“A pirate!” Lady Charlotte exclaimed, her voice a shrill sound that hurt Silver’s ears, made Flint wince and Hamilton chuckle. “And you allow…that…to sit at the same table than us?”

“I assure you, Lady Charlotte,” Silver said, his prettiest smile on his face. “That I am in no mood to rape and rob you.”

The lady turned red at those words and fanned herself with one hand, shocked by just the mention of rape and Silver raised a brow, while Flint let out a snort.

“Oh, I forgot, Lady Charlotte,” Rogers continued, taking some of his wine. “Mister Silver is not interested in the goods you provide. He would be more interested in the goods your husband provides.”

Now both of Silver’s brows went up and without stopping his smile, he looked the man opposite Lady Charlotte over, and tilted his head, also noticing how Hamilton hid his laughter behind a napkin and Flint leaned back in his chair, bloody murder in his eyes.

“Honestly, Mister Rogers, I thought since you are acquainted with my husband, you would know that I have a far better taste in my companions than…that,” he said.

Hamilton could no longer hold back and spluttered as a result from his laughing, tears in his eyes.

“Oh God, James,” he said, wiping away a tear. “I like him.”

Flint stared at Rogers, and replied without looking at Hamilton: “You better not.”

“His…husband?” Lord Cavendish asked, confused.

“A sodomite? You bring a sodomite to a table of honest and God fearing guests?”

Silver smiled at the captain that had said that.

“It would seem so.”

“It’s not like it’s contagious,” Silver said. “You must not fear my presence, Lord Cavendish, Captain Hampstead. I will hold myself back from seducing you.”

Flint looked for the first time at Silver, their eyes meeting over the table, and he saw the sadness in Silver’s eyes.

“You said husband,” Lady Charlotte inquired. “How is that possible?”

“I assumed much the same as you are wed to the husband of yours, mylady,” Silver said, the voice low and the smile kind, aware of the effect he had on women. “The man I love and myself gave vows and were bonded in a matelotage.”

“A mate…?”

“Matelotage, mylady. It is a form of marriage between pirates, following our code of honor among ours. It means we will protect each other and share everything we own, that we are equals.”

“Impossible,” the British captain said, putting his napkin on the plate.

“And why is that?” Hamilton asked to Silver’s surprise. “Because you limit the ability to love to the gender that society demands of you?”

Silver smiled at the blond Lord, who gave him a short wink. He had the feeling that, having met under different circumstances and not loving the same man, he and Hamilton could have been friends. There was mischief in Hamilton’s eyes, a glint that showed an agile spirit and brilliant mind. He could see why James loved him, and the jealousy he had wanted to feel was replaced with defeat. Never would he have a chance to compete against a man like that, not that there was even a slight chance that James would ever again look at him like he was not a nuisance and the devil himself.

“Blasphemy,” the captain said.

“You should not worry,” Rogers then said. “His _husband_ is no longer interested in him. And why would he, look at him. A cripple like that, what…”

Flint stood up, his chair tipping over, stopping Rogers’ insults that had made Lady Charlotte gasp.

“His husband,” Flint said. “Would be very much interested in him, if he were not a traitor and liar, if he had once kept his promise and word.”

James’ eyes were firmly on Silver’s, before he turned around.

“Excuse me,” he said and left the room, Silver and Hamilton staring after him before Hamilton looked at Silver and shook his head, a hint of sadness in his eyes, before he too got up and followed Flint.

Silver wished he could do the same and run after the two men, but he remained still, until Rogers, who looked furious because he had not been able to finish the humiliation he had obviously planned for Silver, waved for the soldiers to return and grab Silver’s shoulders.

“Take him away,” Rogers ordered, and Silver got up, being pulled to his feet and dragged out of the room, the eyes of Rogers’ guests on him.

The redcoats dragged him, stumbling and limping, down hallways, through a courtyard and finally further steps downwards, under the earth, until they reached a locked door that was opened after an insistent knock of one of them.

“Your new guest,” the soldier said, and shoved Silver almost into the arms of the guard that awaited them and that shoved the one-legged man, who was already struggling, into a cell, letting the door close with a loud bang.

Finally he had arrived where he did belong. Behind bars. Awaiting a fate that was no longer in question for him. Sooner or later they would get him and end him. And maybe that would not be the worst outcome.

“If that isn’t my good friend, Flint’s former poodle,” a deep voice snarled in the cell opposite his.

Silver tried to see something in the dark, and made finally out a man sitting on the floor, clothes torn and dirty, infected wounds on the arm and hand that were visible, the face bruised and the eye swollen shut, deep shadows underneath.

Silver blinked.

He had recognized the voice, but he had not dared to believe his own memory. But the long golden hair, even though crusted and filthy, the cat-like eyes. There was no doubt who was in the cell, so close to him.

“Vane?”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile in Nassau

_Meanwhile in Nassau_

“This way!” Rackham yelled, dragging Anne at her sleeve behind him, her long hair tied back so it did not come into her way.

They were crawling throw rubble, putting one careful foot in front of the other, trying not to cause the fragile ruins to fall into themselves even more and endangering not only themselves but also the people who might have survived the attack.

There had been numerous corpses they already had discovered, among them children and older people, had met crying parents and men digging in the ruins of their homes for their loved ones. It was a zone of desperation and tears. Even the birds had stopped singing and it was so still that not even the sound of the wind coming from the sea could disturb this quiet.

Anne’s eyes were wide, again not wanting to show emotion, but terrified of what they saw and found. It was not the dead that shocker her, or Rackham, it was the fear in the eyes of the survivors. They had lost home and loved ones, and now they feared that there would come another attack.

Ben and Jim were not far behind them, moved a little to the left.

Here, in this area, there was no life left, and still, the four of them, accompanied by a handful of volunteers, had decided to go here and at least look if anyone was still alive. The two streets were not even to be made out anymore in the rubble of stones, only hints of doorframes and windows could be seen.

Ben, trying to keep his balance standing on two large stones, wiping away the sweat from his forehead, looked at the boy that followed him like a shadow. Jim was always close with him since Silver had left them for his unknown fate, and the boy did not dare to ask yet about what was to happen to the king, which Ben was happy about. He had no answers for him and he did not want to lie about Silver’s fate in Rogers’ hands.

He missed his best friend, who had offered him the needed comfort in the time of need, of loneliness. He missed talking to him for hours, or just sitting next to each other with a pint of beer, not needing to say anything to understand. The night before Silver had given himself over to Rogers, he had not been able to find Silver, and then went down the beach and finally had found him at the place that Silver had avoided to go to in all the weeks since he had returned from England.

His home. His house.

Silver had been standing there in the moonlight, at the gate, as if he did not dare to go into the white house that he and Flint had planned to spend their lives in. A memorial of what could have been, of what he had destroyed. Like he destroyed anything he touched. Ben had put a hand on his shoulder and again, there were no words needed. They stood there next to each other, looking at the house, imagining it as a place of happiness and laughter like they had wanted it to be one day. Flint and him, Ben and Billy. And now all of that was…gone, and would never return.

Jim got closer to Ben, handing him unasked a skin with water. Of all days, today he to be a hot one, the sun not shielded by any clouds and after a whole day on their feet, tiredness and aching bones were the result.

“We should go back soon,” Ben said, loud enough so also Jack and Anne could hear him, and Jack looked up, nodding.

Anne though frowned: “There could still be survivors.”

Jack touched his friend’s arm and she looked up to him.

“Dear, look around. Nobody here has survived. Rogers did a good job. They fired the cannons in all the right spots to make every building fall down.”

“I will never forgive Flint,” she hissed.

“This is not Flint’s doing, Anne,” Ben said, coming closer. “He was on sea, fighting us. I doubt he even was informed about this attack before he returned to his harbor.”

“You were not here when he attacked Charles Town after Mrs. Barlow was murdered. He ransacked the town. There were innocents too that died,” Anne continued. “He is just as much a murderer as Rogers is.”

Jack tilted his head to the side.

“We all are,” he said. “Given the chance, we would go out there and attack Rogers’ goddamn fortress without the blink of an eye, and I would not give a thought about who dies in there. We only can’t do it because for one, we can’t approach it unseen for its goddamn location, second, Silver is in there, and…,” he hesitated, the eyes suddenly sad.

Anne took his hand and shared a sad look.

Ben smiled sadly.

“Vane,” he completed Jack’s sentence. “He is still there, Rackham. He is alive. I’m certain.”

“Why would he be? Rogers has nothing to gain from him being alive.”

“I think he keeps him and will execute him in a dramatic move, to entertain the masses and to cut a wound into our hearts. If Vane was already dead, they would have displayed his body. His dead would not be kept a secret.”

Rackham nodded.

“That makes sense,” he said. “Bones is in there too.”

Now it was Ben who nodded.

“He will return to you,” Rackham said, noticing how the younger sailor wore a look of sadness in his eyes since the last fight with Billy when the bosun left to join Flint.

“Even if he won’t, he will always be a part of me,” Ben said, turning around and started to make his way through more rubble, followed by Jim who had taken in their short conversation with curiosity.

“Who is Bones?” The boy then asked when they were alone around the next corner.

Ben looked shortly at Jim, sighing.

“Billy Bones. He was Captain Flint’s bosun, and he was my lover,” Ben explained, not daring to look at Jim, who was still not quite comfortable with the love between two men. “He left me…us to join Flint.”

He noticed how Jim got tense, shifting from one foot to the other as if he was contemplating how to react, and then he surprised the sailor by taking his hand, making Ben look at him, prompted to smile softly.

“I miss my mother,” Jim said. “I cannot imagine how it will be once I find someone to love, but I imagine it will hurt very much.”

Ben nodded.

“Being alone is the worst,” he said. “Not knowing if he’s in danger, or even alive. I get what Rackham feels because he does not know of Vane’s fate, it must drive him crazy.”

Jim grinned.

“I read about the famous Captain Charles Vane, they say he is the son of Blackbeard.”

Ben laughed.

“Not by blood, I am pretty sure, but Teach was like a father to him, yes.”

“Didn’t know he was a molly though.”

Ben frowned.

“If you want to use that word, it will apply to Flint and me the most. Silver, he likes women too, as do Vane and Rackham. There are only few people around here who care about things like that. Anne,” he nodded into the direction of the now a bit more far away redhead. “She’s into girls mostly, is in love with Max.” Ben crouched down and lifted a few stones. “One day, you’ll fall in love, and I hope that you…”

Ben stopped and lifted a hand to signal Jim to remain silent for a moment too.

He had heard a sound, but there was nothing.

Just when he let out the breath he had held, there was the sound again.

A whimper. A mewling.

Ben and Jim looked at each other and then Jim was next to him on his knees and both started to dig through stones and rubble, through sand and pieces of broken wood.

“What is it?” Jim asked.

“I don’t know. A cat maybe or a small dog,” he said, thinking of his own Betsy back at home in the small house that he was living in now with Jim, close to the one where Flint and Silver wanted to live. A house, he had once dreamed of to live in with Billy, but that dream was history now. Now, he was living there with a cat that was his queen, and he was trying to fix things and make it pretty and look like a home, like his home back in Scotland with his parents had been.

He thought about the fear the small animal must be feeling under the ruins, in the darkness, not understanding why it was locked in, why there was no light and why there were no more mommy or daddy.

The moment he saw the hand of a dead woman, he showed Jim to stop and shoved the boy a little away, not wanting him to be confronted with death this close. It was a small hand, pale and it wore a simple golden wedding band. Blood on the fingers, the bones broken and the nails chipped. He hoped she had not suffered for long and that the falling building had buried her not alive but killed her instantly.

It was like her fingers were pointing at something, and he started to dig more, reaching under a large stone, until he felt something moving.

His eyes widened.

He tried to grab it and pulled it slowly and carefully out of the small cavity between the fallen stones.

“What is that?” Jim asked, peaking over Ben’s shoulder, who lifted the whimpering bundle and pressed it tight against his chest, standing up.

He turned around to Jim, his bright eyes wide and filled to the brim with tears.

“It’s a…baby,” he whispered.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Earning the explicit rating with this chapter.
> 
> Warning:   
Dubious consent and some aggression. Mind the tags.

Two weeks after the very interesting dinner party Rogers had him be part of, Silver was dragged into his cell by two soldiers, who he never would know the names of and whose faces he did not care about. Without considering his leg or the wounds that had been inflicted on his body the men threw him into the cell that had become something like his home in these weeks. There was nothing but stone and a sandy floor, the bed a straw-filled mattress that never was completely dry and a ratty blanket that itched. Silver did not want to think about the diseases that he might have gotten already. He was constantly cold and shivered, found hardly sleep and there was not a bone in his body that did not hurt.

Not that it would matter anymore.

His death was not only a question of time. It was certain and he knew that the day he would finally be hanged was near. He had made peace with himself, but he still cried at night when he hoped nobody would be able to hear him, telling the Lord that he did not want to die. That he wanted to see his friends again, wanted to go home and sit on the beach and watch the sunset, set foot on the Walrus again and bicker with Rackham. He wanted to dream of happiness and a life without worries and without fear. But even daring to dream of those things was useless now.

A part of him wished they would just come and take him, bring him to the gallows and end this farce.

Instead they took him every other day, and when they brought him back, he felt less human than before.

He felt Vane’s eyes on him every time it happened, worry in those blue cat-eyes that was so unusual for the Ranger’s captain, and still so much him. When they were alone, they talked. Vane told him about the regrets he had, that he trusted the wrong people and women and that he never had the chance to fall in love just once in his fucked up life. Silver smiled at those words, remembering what it had felt like in those few days when he and Flint had been happy with each other, and maybe that was what made it worse, what made it harder to deal with his part of his life. If he had never known what love felt like, he would not miss it and it would not hurt this much.

He sat down on the mattress, his leg throbbing in pain, and looked at his right hand that was shaking uncontrollably and was bandaged in a piece of linen that had seen better days even before it was put on him to stop the bleeding where he had lost a fingernail that was torn out earlier.

He would not allow himself to show them how weak he really was, that he was close to breaking and often wanted to beg them to just kill him already. But no, he was a king. And as a king, he would still be proud and strong in the moment of his death. He would not let Rogers win.

“Open.”

Silver looked up at the sound of the voice and frowned.

One of the guards unlocked the door to his cell and Flint stepped in, the door closing again behind him and being locked.

“Have you upset Rogers that much that he sends you to prison too?” Silver smirked, but Flint showed no sign of amusement to his words.

Instead he just looked down at Silver, no word spoken, until Silver felt uneasy and shifted a little, looking away from the other man.

“Have you come to gloat?” He then asked, looking no longer at Flint.

Flint snorted, but still said nothing. Silver felt his eyes on him, felt how Flint continued to stare at the weakened man on the floor, dirty and filthy, no longer the man he had known.

With a shaky breath, Silver managed to get to his feet and limped to the door, rattling it loudly.

“Guards!” He yelled. “My visitor would like to leave!”

A hand grabbed him and pushed him against the bars of the cell door, making him gasp and look up into the furious frown on Flint’s face. Flint’s right hand had closed around his throat and was pressing him into the door, robbing his air and choking him.

“Tell me why,” Flint snarled.

Silver stared at him, his breathing becoming labored, gasping for air, the eyes wide. He made choking sounds and his left hand was clasped around Flint’s wrist, trying to get him to lose his grip on him.

It felt like an eternity until Flint let go of him and Silver fell back, coughing and the eyes still on Flint, who looked like he was ready to spit on him, the lips draw into a feral snarl and the eyes cold as ice.

“Why what?” Silver gave back.

“You really have to ask that?” Flint yelled, shoving Silver, whose back was pressed painfully into the bars. “Tell me why you lied to me! Tell me! Did you hate me that much that you had to go and kill the last piece of humanity in me?”

Silver only shook his head and tried to get past Flint, but the captain grabbed his shoulder and now pushed him into the wall.

“Tell me why,” Flint’s voice was nothing more than a whisper, standing so close in front of Silver that their bodies touched, his breath, smelling of brandy, on Silver’s face, the eyes looking for an answer that Silver was not willing to give him.

“Tell me.”

Silver shook his head again, the eyes lowered and fighting back tears. No, he would not show this weakness, not to Rogers, not to Flint. Especially not to Flint.

“I…,” he began, looking up, but he was not able to complete the sentence.

Flint’s lips locked over his, shutting him up before he could say anything, the kiss a statement of power and strength, submitting Silver in an instant. He wanted to fight back, to push Flint away, and his hands found his shoulders, pressing against them, but then he could not let this moment pass without being able to taste Flint one last time before death would await him. He sobbed into the kiss when he allowed himself to open his mouth and Flint got the hint and let his tongue accept the unspoken invitation. The moment their tongues touched, Silver went immediately sober from the drunkenness Flint’s presence had brought upon him, and he pushed him away.

Flint stumbled back a step, panting and looked questioning at him.

“No,” Silver said. “You already regret being married to me. I don’t allow you to regret this later too.”

Flint snorted out a laugh.

“I regret having ever met you,” he hissed. “You are the devil.”

Silver nodded.

“Maybe I am,” he said, sadness in his voice. “Leave, James. Leave and go fuck Thomas instead, that is where you belong. With a noble gentleman and not with a dead streetrat.”

Oh, how he hated the tears that stung in his eyes, avoiding to look up and showing Flint the wetness in his eyes, and still he noticed how Flint went rigid at his words, well chose to hurt Flint and make him leave.

He had not counted on Flint being provoked by his words instead when Flint took the weight of his own body to push Silver again against the wall, this time not only close but his body melting into Silver’s.

Silver’s eyes snapped up and he looked right into those of the other man, noticing the hardness of Flint’s cock pressing into his hip. The Silver of the past would have made a remark, sassy and provoking, would have maybe even mocked Flint for this physical reaction to their closeness, a method to get out of moment that made him feel unwell, but this Silver, he did no such thing. Instead he held still, not even able to breathe anymore.

There was uncertainty in Flint’s hooded eyes, looking down at Silver with an unspoken question, looking at his lips and then up into those beautiful eyes, that blinked at him with insecurity.

And then they clashed with the intensity of a storm flood.

There was no holding back, there was no uncertainty anymore, there was no reason and sanity left.

Only two men who were clinging to each other like to an anchor that would save them in the stormy sea, the only thing keeping them from drowning.

Their teeth clicked so loudly against each other that Silver thought for a moment that he lost a front tooth, but he could not care less. As far as he was concerned, nothing existed than this man that kissing him like there was no tomorrow, and maybe that was closer to the truth that he wanted it to be. His hands found Flint’s head and for the first time he touched the soft ginger hair that had grown back and that was long enough that he could bury his fingers in the silky waves, while Flint had one hand around the back of his neck, pulling him as close into his body as possible.

It was Silver whose hands were starting to tear at Flints clothes, but the captain pushed his searching hands away and Silver whimpered silently into the ongoing, heated kiss, and suddenly, Flints lips were off his, strong hands turned him around, twisting his bad leg without regard for the constant pain that was his companion, and pushing his face into the stone wall. Silvers hands tried to find purchase against the cold stone, while one of Flint’s hands shoved into his trousers and found the firm, round globes of his butt, touching the soft skin. He moaned on the touch, feeling like scorching heat on him, taking his breathe away.

Silver closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the wall, trying to brace himself, keep himself from moaning loud enough to alarm the guards. Still, he moved a little and pushed his arse out, into Flints touch, wanting more, wanting it all.

But Flints hand vanished from the touch and when he tried to turn around to see what was going on, Flint pushed him once more into the wall. He heard the sound of a belt knuckle being opened and the rustling of clothes and then his own trousers were pulled downwards, cold air hitting his skin that seconds later was feeling the heat of his husband’s body.

Flint’s cock nestled between his cheeks, while Flint spat on his fingers and shoved them roughly right into his body.

“James!” Silver could not hold back to scream, more a moan than an articulated word and again he was pushing back, trying to get the intrusive fingers deeper, and he sighed in disappointment when they were all too soon removed from him.

Before he could utter his disappointment, make a remark that for sure would have irked James, the fingers were replaced with something much bigger, harder and hotter, and the scream that left Silvers throat was primal and spoke of desperate desire and need.

Without the pretense of carefulness, without any reservation, James started to fuck Silver hard and fast, connecting them deeper with every thrust. Silver moaned and let out whimpers of lust while the man he was married made only few sounds, breathing hot against his neck. Silver’s legs started already to give out, but Flint held him upright and did not miss a beat driving his hips against Silver’s buttocks, his body a tight and hot sheath for his cock, his balls slapping against Silver and the cell filled with the sounds of their union and the moans both let out more and more, not able to hold back the desire they felt for each other, no matter how much Flint did not want to feel this lust, this lack of control that Silver caused.

Silver tried to pull himself together, tried to concentrate on something to not let go already, to just hold onto this moment of bliss and completeness, and then he noticed it.

He noticed how James had buried his face in his curls, and he noticed the dampness, the soft sounds that came from James behind him.

His husband was crying and trying to not show it to him.

Silver wanted to say something, do something to calm James, to make him smile again like he had in their wedding night, when they had whispered sweet words of love into each other’s ears, before he had destroyed it all, but before he could do anything or even think of anything through the heat of their being together, Flint pushed one last time into him, pulsing and throbbing and came deep in his bowels, causing him to follow him shortly after, without his own cock even once having been touched.

Both men panted heavily and then their legs lost steadiness and strength, and James pulled Silver with him to the ground, holding him close against his chest, the face still in his hair, not able to say anything or do anything but to hold him.

It took minutes, in which they both did not move or speak, until James pulled out of him, a stream of his seed leaving Silver’s body with him.

“I told you once. You are not welcome in my head,” Flint whispered, got up, pulling his trousers up and closing his belt in the same movement, and Silver understood that Flint blamed him for him having lost control.

He did not look at the man on the floor, who lay there panting and trembling in the aftermath of what they had just shared, realizing that this had been the last moment of his life to feel alive. Tears were streaming down Silver’s face and he did not care that it may looked like he felt ashamed, used or whatever, when the only emotion filling him was the regret that he could not hold onto this feeling. That it was over. For good.

Flint had a guard open the door and stepped out.

“James,” Silver said, the voice nothing more than a whisper, making Flint stop. “I did it because I loved you.”

Flint did not react.

He turned around and started to walk away, noticing that Vane was sitting on the floor in his cell, so close that he must have seen and heard everything that had just happened between him and Silver. Flint wanted to sigh, but he remained stern and only saw out of the corner of one eye that Vane saluted in his direction while he went to leave the prison, to leave Silver behind forever.

* * * * * * * * * *

Flint closed the door to his bedroom behind him and leaned against the door leaf, closing his eyes.

His whole body throbbed as if he had been in a fight, he felt every muscle and his heart was beating at an insane rate, a tightness around it that made it harder and harder to breathe. Maybe he was the one in a prison cell, God knew that he belonged in one after all the crimes he had committed, while Silver was sitting in that dark and cold hole in the ground waiting for whatever fate Rogers had planned for him.

His chest ached and his legs started to feel weak and trembled. Dizziness flooded his mind and his vision became unfocused.

Slowly, he slid to the ground and, eyes opened, he stared at an invisible spot in the dark room.

What was it about Silver that made him break his own rules, that made him act not like himself? How many times he had changed the path he had wanted to go since that annoying, curly haired shit had stumbled into his life, he could not say. Silver made him furious. He made him angry. He made him yell and throw things and…and he made him smile and believe in hope. He made him feel warm and made him feel like he was alive. He made him feel love.

Without making a sound, he started to weep.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, again. It has to get bad before it gets better.

The burden of guilt did not leave Flint’s shoulders for days.

Several things put a heavy weight on his soul, robbed him of the ability to find sleep or even the shortest moment of rest.

Every single time he met Silver, something happened to him that he had not anticipated. He was just a British sailor turned fake cook. Nothing else. A nuisance. But then he had become his friend, his quartermaster, his trusted companion.

His lover.

His husband.

When he now thought about those years with Silver at his side, he realized that everything they had shared had been based on a lie. That their relationship had ended in a lie should have not surprised him.

What did surprise him even more was his own lack of the ability to stay away from Silver.

Even after days, he did not understand what had caused him to go down to the prison to see him. A part of him had wanted an answer from Silver, why he had betrayed him that one time too much. But another part just had wanted to be close to Silver, to see every single shade of blue in his eyes. Touching his hair, those soft curls even though they were not clean anymore, had brought back so many memories of that short time he had been allowed a glimpse of happiness. Those days before they spoke their vows, when he had looked into Silver’s eyes and had for the first time not seen the cocky sailor, the inept cook, the manipulative quartermaster, but Solomon Little, the insecure and scared boy, so desperate to be loved. Flint had dreamt that day that it had been real. He wanted to live in a world in which he could call Silver his husband and nobody would bat an eye, where John Silver would be allowed to be Solomon McGraw. Where they would be allowed to shed the identities they had acquired and just be themselves.

But before there had been a chance to find that happiness, Silver had made a decision that turned into the end of a partnership that should have lasted forever.

Flint closed the book he had been trying to read, not able to concentrate of the written words a philosopher had written centuries ago. Words that once had brought him peace where empty now and had been for the past months. Since that day at the beach when his reality had turned into a nightmare he could not wake up from.

He looked up when a soft knock on his door was followed by the door being opened and Thomas stepped in. They looked at each other, and Thomas smiled while his eyes looked sad. He had always been so good at reading Flint that he had no doubt that Thomas felt this time as well what storm was going on in Flint’s mind.

Thomas said no word, instead he sat down on the edge of Flint’s bed and watched him, making Flint raise a brow. Once more Thomas noticed how not only lines of age were now on Flint’s face, but lines of worry, of grief and of pain. James looked constantly tormented, the eyes as empty as his smiles were, as if his soul, that soft soul and sharp mind that Thomas had fallen in love to, had been ripped out.

They had talked for hours, but James never had told much about Silver. The only things Thomas knew were that Silver had wormed his way into James’ life and heart, had hurt him and killed a part of James that Thomas could only pray was not gone for good. He had hated Silver for what he had done to his truest love, had thought that he wanted Silver to suffer and die a painful death for having hurt James.

And then he had met John Silver.

The younger man was beautiful with his mop of dark curls, the smooth tanned skin and the brilliant blue eyes. His smile spoke as much of mischief as his eyes spoke of intelligence and a brain that could match James’ or his in every way. When they had sat at the dinner table after Silver had submitted himself to Rogers, Thomas had seen the man that James had fallen in love with. He knew his James to be a stubborn man, to not allow himself pleasure and emotions at times, stoic and cold, but he also knew him of a man of inhibited passion and a side that was looking for adventure. And when he looked at John Silver, he understood why James had fallen in love with him and finally allowed himself to move on from the lover he had thought dead.

A few days ago, James had changed again. He did not dare to look into Thomas’ eyes anymore and avoided touching him, and Thomas had drawn his conclusions.

“You still love him,” he said after quiet minutes, making James look at him and look away immediately, which made Thomas smile once again.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” James said, looking at his hand that was put on the book in front of him.

Thomas smiled and took a more comfortable position on the bed, against the headboard, one leg on the duvet.

“Oh, I think you know very well what I’m talking about,” he replied. “I’m talking about you going to see John in the prison a couple of days ago.”

James frowned and looked at Thomas.

“What?” He asked surprised. “How do you know?”

Thomas could not hold back a laugh.

“So I assumed right. You are as easy to read at times as a children’s book, my dear James. I was not sure you went to see him, but now I know.” His smile was knowing and showed amusement. “What happened between you?”

“Nothing. I went to talk to him. I wanted to know…”

“To know what?”

“Why he lied to me.”

Thomas nodded.

“And what did he say?”

“He said he did it because he loved me,” he said, his voice almost a hoarse whisper. “Another lie.”

Thomas watched James, seeing the deep sadness in those eyes he loved so much with all their flecks of blue and green.

“I don’t think it was a lie,” he then said.

James again turned his head to look at him.

“Why would you say that? After all he did.”

“And what did he do, James? He wanted the man he was in love with for himself. That is selfish, yes. But a lie? I don’t think so. I would have done the same. If you had given me the choice to choose between having you for myself or letting you leave to be with a love long forgotten, I would have fought heaven and hell to have you by my side.”

“You were never forgotten.”

“I was dead to you, James,” Thomas countered. “I was a memory of a time long gone. I was your past, John was your present and future.”

“Why are you defending him? And stop calling him John,” James snarled. “He means nothing to me. Nothing.”

“You are lying to yourself, James. I don’t know what happened between the two of you in the prison, but I do know that you still love him.”

“I…,” James’ words were interrupted by another knock at the door. “Come in,” he said, and then added directed at Thomas. “We continue this later.”

One of Rogers’ guards came in.

“Your presence in the courtyard is required,” he said, and left without waiting for a reply, obviously ordered to only deliver this strange invitation.

James got up from his chair, Thomas following his example, but before they left the room, James stopped the blond man at the door.

“I love you,” James said.

Thomas’ smile did not quite reach his eyes.

“I know. And I love you. But I am not sure if we love this version of us or a memory of the men we have once been.”

The Lord touched the captain’s arm, a gesture of consolation for the both of them.

Their way to the courtyard remained silent, and James’ thoughts were circling around the words that Thomas had said to him, contemplating how much truth had been buried in them, but when they reached the place they had been ordered to, his thoughts were stopped.

While standing on the first floor of the artrium, Thomas and he were looking down at several dozen people that had been assembled, soldiers, and people from the near town, men, women alike. Rogers went over to him and Thomas, a smile on his face that James did not like, smug and with a cruelty that made Thomas tense up immediately, while James balled his left hand into a fist to stop him from reacting inappropriately.

“Good, there you are. Right in time,” he said. “You can stay up here, I think you will have the best of views from here.”

“View on what?” Flint asked.

“You’ll see,” Rogers said, and then he noticed a movement in the courtyard and he smirked at the two men. “If you will excuse men, I have something to do.”

Flint stepped closer to the balustrade and put both hands on the stone, leaning a little forward and watched with narrowed eyes what was going on down there, and then he stared when he understood what was about to happen.

They had erected a podium in the center of the yard, wooden with a post in the middle, and he watched how Rogers, who had went downstairs, was stepping onto it and raised a hand.

“My dear friends,” Rogers started. “For years, for decades you fine people had to suffer under the terror reign of pirates. Of murderers, of thieves, of men who disrupt the freedom of the New World, who threaten your life and who take away the wealth that should have been yours. How many times have they taken the wares that were intended for you? That were intended to make your lives better. How many of your sons were taken from you in the pirate’s rule of death and misery?” Thomas was looking at Flint, almost waiting for him to react, but Flint continued to stare. “We are fighting a war against men who know no rules. Against men who don’t live after any code of honor. Men, who know nothing but murder and rape, who steal your money, your homes and your children!” Rogers looked up at Flint and gave him a nod. “And in this war, we have finally gained a vantage. We have finally gained a victory over the mockery of a pirate kingdom of Nassau!” He waved into the direction of the gate to his right, which opened.

Flint’s eyes widened.

“We have detain nobody less than the man who calls himself the king of pirates!”

Two guards were dragging a man into the courtyard in who he recognized Silver. They were moving too fast for John to keep step with them and he stumbled along until they shoved him up the three stairs onto the podium and did not waste time to tie him up at the post, the arms risen over his head. Even over the distance, Flint saw clearly how pale Silver was, that there were dark bruises on his face and one of his eyes swollen.

“Do you have anything to say, pirate?” Rogers asked. “We have testimonials of widows, of mothers who lost their sons, of women you raped and destroyed, is there anything you want to say?”

Silver looked at Rogers, before his eyes searched the crowd, then looked up and found what, who he had been looking for.

“There is one regret I have,” Silver said, his voice broken and showing the pain he already was in. “I will not regret striving to be free. I am the new beginning of Nassau and you will be its end. I will not regret protecting those who trusted me, my friends, my family. I will not regret fighting for our lives. I only regret that there has been a lie I cannot take back.”

Flint held his breath, watching how Rogers made a gesture and the guards ripped the already torn shirt from Silver’s body showing that he lost weight and was only the shadow of the man he once had been.

“What…?” Thomas asked next to him, while Flint was close to snapping.

Rogers waved again and one of the guards took a cat of nine from another and got into position behind Silver, who still looked up at Flint, shaking slowly his head, telling him without words that he did not want him to interfere.

“You, John Silver, stand in front of these fine people, accused of wreaking havoc throughout the New World, accused of the act of piracy. I hereby declare you an enemy of all mankind, and in my power given to me by His Majesty King George of Britain, I condemn you to 100 lashes.”

Flint’s face grew pale in one second, even Thomas stared with an open mouth at the men below them.

“One hundred?” Thomas whispered, now having taken the same position as Flint, hands on the balustrade.

“That is insanity,” Flint said, seeing how Silver started to fight against his restrains but without a chance to free himself.

“Just shoot me already, or hang me, I don’t care!” Silver yelled at Rogers. “You goddamn son of a bitch, be a man and do what you must!”

Rogers smiled at Silver.

“That is exactly what I am doing,” he said and left the podium, making his way back upstairs until he reached Thomas and Flint and took his position there, having a better look of the spectacle unfolding itself.

The first hit of the cat of nine hit Silver’s back and ripped the skin already open and Flint winced at the fight in Silver’s face who tried desperately not to let the pain and fear show, but the more lashes rained down on him, the harder his struggle got.

10

11

12

Silver screamed, tears all over his face.

31

32

33

Silver lost balance on his leg and hang from the shackles that held his hands.

48

49

“Stop it,” Flint hissed, seeing how blood dripped down Silver’s body and started to cover the planks beneath him. “This is enough.”

“I don’t think so,” Rogers smiled. “I gave my orders.”

“I said, it is enough,” Flint said louder, threat in his words.

“And I said, I don’t think so.”

Flint’s fists were ready to fight the privateer, to lose his own life if he had to, but he could no longer stand the agony that his husband felt. His husband.

God, no.

“Enough!” Thomas Hamilton said, loud enough for the guards down with Silver to hear it and hesitate in the execution of their orders.

Silver was hanging seemingly lifeless from the shackles, the tendrils and muscles in his arms stretched, the hair damp from sweat, blood everywhere. The only sign he was still alive were his whimpers, almost not audible at all.

“That is enough,” Thomas repeated.

Rogers looked at the Lord, annoyed by the interruption, and stepped closer to the other man.

“Do you want to go back to Savannah, Lord Hamilton?” He whispered. “Do you want to go back the Bethlem?”

“If I have to, I will take the remaining lashes instead of him, but stop this insanity at once,” Thomas said, his eyes steady on Rogers’.

“I do not think that you are in the position to make any demands, Lord Hamilton,” Rogers hissed. “Don’t forget your place. It will take me nothing but a letter I have already prepared to have you shipped back to London and back into the loving arms of your kind. I heard the screams and treatments are quite enjoyable.”

Thomas nodded and remained silent.

“What you do is inhuman. If you want the pirate king executed, you should just do so. This,” Thomas pointed downwards. “This spectacle is undeserving and barbarous, and it puts you on the same level as those you are fighting so vigorously. It makes you the criminal, and it makes him the victim.”

Flint did not react to their exchange.

Instead he stared at the man at the post, whose back lay in shreds, flesh and skin torn of him, not only flogged by flayed. Silvers whole body was shaking under the intense of the pain he was going through, most likely passed out from the intensity of this punishment that Rogers had decided on. He had served on Navy ships for many years. Had seen punishments, had seen good men and bad man being flogged, but the worst sentence he had witnessed had been 36 lashes, and the man had died of his injuries after days in agony and fever, the body not having been able to fight off the infection. 36 lashes were insanity. The 49 lashes that Silver had endure were the work of the devil.

He dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands, trying to continue holding the reigns of his all-consuming wrath and anger, of the tide of fury that flooded his mind, looking at the body down there that was at the brink of death.

There were two things going through Flint’s head, behind those rage filled eyes.

He had to get Silver out of here, had to get him back to Nassau as soon as possible.

And Thomas had been right.

He was still in love with him. And he would always be.


	14. Chapter 14

It had taken Thomas all the intelligent and strength he had to stop Flint from starting a war to get to Silver when Rogers decided they would let the pirate king hang there, passed out, until he decided that he would be taken off the post and taken inside.

And so, Silver was still hanging off his arms two days later.

Nobody was allowed to approach Silver, give him water, take care of the wounds or do anything, something to stop the silent moans of pain of the tortured man. To Thomas’ surprise, Flint had acted indifferent and had left his room only for meetings with Rogers, who was discussing the next steps in the war against piracy, plotting together with Flint the next attack that would leave them to Nassau’s harbor and destroy the town to have it rebuild in the aftermath.

After one of those meetings, Flint had returned to his room and waited. He had taken only a small dinner, even though he did not feel like eating, but he needed his strength for what was going to come, and then he waited until the sun had set and darkness was filling the sparse room. He took the letter he had written yesterday and had hidden in the book on the nightstand that he had been reading and put it on the small desk. It was addressed to Thomas and he hoped, he prayed that he could one day forgive him.

He took the clothes he needed from the chest with his things, his pistols and the dagger, his sabre.

And then, when he had changed into the dark cloth, he wrapped the black scarf around his head, and took a deep breath.

There was no going back.

There was either freedom or death waiting for them at the end of the night.

And we would welcome either happily.

He opened the door only a small gap and listened into the darkness and when he heard no sound, he slid out and made his way down the hallway, his steps light and silent, one hand on his gun to be able to react in an instant if he should made an unexpected obstacle.

The first obstacle he met came late, almost at his destination, when the lazy and drunk guard that sat in front of the barred door that lead to the cells, stared at the masked man in shock and then only gurgled when Flint drew his sabre into the man’s body. He looked unmoved at the dead body at his feet, took then the keys from him and opened the door.

There was only one cell occupied as he knew and he did not hesitate a moment to open the door that separated him from the other man.

Vane was sitting on his straw mattress on the floor, one knee drawn up and looked up at him, one brow raised.

Flint took off the scarf that hid his face, but Vane already was up at his feet, surprisingly fast for a man whose face and body shower the traces of the weeks he had been down here, bruises and healing and fresh wounds.

“About time,” Vane growled and passed Flint. “Good to have you back.”

Flint huffed and follower the ungrateful shit that Vane was into the front room, where Vane was disarming the fallen guard and spat on the man, stabbing the dagger he had acquired into his groin and twisting it.

Flint raised both brows, but Vane only said: “He deserved it,” without being asked.

Vane went up the stairs, having taken the lead with the movements of a powerful, large cat and Flint followed him until they waited a moment at the next door that lead to the courtyard.

“Where’s your boy?” Vane whispered.

Flint nodded towards the door.

“Out there,” he replied.

Vane gave a nod and pushed the door open, but suddenly there was a large hand on his wrist stopping him and he looked up, the moment Flint drew his dagger, ready to take out the third man that had appeared out of nowhere but hesitated when he looked up at Billy Bones’ face.

“There are four guards out there with him, three at the moment, I don’t know where the fourth went,” Billy whispered.

Flint and Billy looked at each other before the captain nodded and pushed the door open.

Three pirates against three guards should have been an easy task, and it was. Even with being weakened, Vane was still the feral weapon that nobody should get in the way of and he had taken the first guard out by slitting his throat before Flint and Billy had even reached their targets, all three moving silently and fast. There was only a few seconds that they took to catch a breath before Flint jumped up the podest and rushed to Silver, who looked dead.

“No,” Flint whispered, taking Silver’s face into his hands and lifted his head. The face he was looking at was badly bruised and had the pale color he had seen in corpses, but there was an almost unhearable moan coming from Silver’s throat. “John,” he said silently. “John, were here. We’re going home. Home.” He was fighting tears, fearing they were too late. He was not sure that Silver could survive the passage back to Nassau. He had a boat prepared that they would be able to steer with two capable men, now they were three including Billy, assuming he would go with them, and he prayed for a calm sea even though they had only a short journey ahead between the islands, maybe two or three days if everything went well. Two or three days that could be too long for Silver until they could hand him over into proper care. “John, can you hear me?”

“He’s out,” Vane said, having taken the key to the shackles from one guard and was busy unlocking those until Silver slumped down into Flint’s arms.

Flint sank to his knees, Silver in his lap, holding him.

“We have no time,” came a snarl from Vane, while Billy stepped closer.

“I’ll carry him,” he said. “You and Vane are the better fighters and I’m the strongest.”

Flint nodded and helped Billy to heave Silver up until Billy had him safely in his arms and was able to carry him to the boat that would lead them into freedom.

“Let’s go,” Flint then said and turned to lead them out of the fortress, his both companions and their valuable weight following him, until Flint stopped dead in his tracks and stared into the barrel of a gun.

“Stop,” the fourth guard said, nothing but cruelty and hate in his eyes, not a man they could reason with.

“We’re three, idiot,” Vane said. “Even if you kill one of us, the others will still get out, walking over your corpse.”

The aim of the guard shifted and he was aiming at Silver. Flint froze.

“You risk it all for the pig,” he said. “Let’s see what you’ll do when he goes to hell.”

A shot rang.

Flint let out a scream.

Vane got the sabre he was now carrying up, ready to attack.

Billy’s grip around Silver grew tighter.

But none of them felt pain, Silver remained unharmed.

It was the guard on whose chest a small red spot of wetness appeared that grew quickly larger. Seemingly aimless, the guard shot into the darkness from where the shot had come, the moment he broke down while the last breath left his body, making them turn around and see Thomas Hamilton stand there in the doorway, a smoking gun in his hand, the face unmoving but then he broke down.

“No!” Flint yelled sharply and ran over to the Lord that was on the floor now, blood staining not his body or chest but his right leg.

“Goddammit,” Thomas hissed. “That bloody hurts.”

“Come with us,” Flint said, kneeing down next to him, not even thinking.

Thomas looked up at him, sadness in his eyes and a weary smile on the lips.

“Take care of John,” he said whispering. “If you must you will find me, but I will be good, now that I had you for this short time again, my love. Take care of him for me, and smile when you think of me.”

Flint nodded, realizing that it was the only choice they could make, not able to take care of a second wounded man. Finally, he could not hold back the tears that he tried to fight.

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking Thomas head into his hands and kissed him. With a soft moan, Thomas opened his lips and welcomed the heat of his lover so close to him, tasting him a last time.

They both did not see how Silver’s eyes had opened and he was staring unfocussed at them before he passed out again.


	15. Chapter 15

They had reached the boat as fast as they could, Billy showing no signs of tiredness even though he was carrying Silver on his own, while Flint had his eyes always on them. Vane was securing their surroundings, listening to any sound that could be a threat and moving in the shadows on their side until they had left the few streets that had to pass and finally made the rest of their way through a short jungle area, reaching the boat that Flint had prepared and tied in a secluded, small bay very close to the fortress.

“That’s hardly a nutshell,” Vane hissed.

“I did not expect the additional company;” Flint remarked and helped Billy get Silver safely into the boat before they started to push the boat into the water.

“Could leave him here.”

Billy’s brows raised.

“And I could just kill you.”

“No one is going to kill anyone,” Flint said. “Instead of being a smartass you could help us get ready.”

Vane stood in the shallow water, his nose in the wind, the eyes closed.

“I think there’s good wind coming up,” he said. “Could make it in three days to Nassau, if there’s where we’re going.”

“Where else would we go?” Billy asked, jumping into the boat and getting the sail ready.

“Not sure you are welcome there,” Vane said to Flint. “No matter you bring our king home.”

“If I’m not, I will leave. But John needs to get into safety first,” Flint said.

“Everything for your molly, huh?” Vane grinned.

Billy rolled his eyes, having the sail raised and sitting down next to the rudder while Flint gave the boat another hard push and had it finally free of the ground, prompting Vane to and him to jump on board the moment the boat took off. Vane sighed and leaned back-

“They will hunt us,” he remarked.

“They always did,” Flint said, while he was getting closer to Silver and pulled his head into his lap, his hand running through the filthy curls.

“I may have disabled the rudders of their shops.”

Vane and Flint both looked in silent wonder at Billy, who tried to look less smug but failed.

“You may have…,” Flint said. “How did you know what I planned?”

“I’ve known you for how many years?” Billy asked. “I disabled them the night after the flogged him. Wasn’t sure when you would make a run, but I knew you would.”

“You are…,” Vane said and could not hold back laughter. “That should give us a nice head start before they are able to follow us.”

“We won’t go the passage they will take. With a boat this small we can pass between the smaller islands and shallow waters. It will take a day longer, but we will be save that way,” Flint said, touching Silver’s shoulder and turning him halfway to his stomach, wincing at the close-up sight of Silver’s flayed back. Even Vane stared in sheer terror at the open wounds that at two spots were deep enough to have cut to the bone.

“He’s not going to make it,” Vane said and earned a stare that could cause death from Flint.

“He will,” he said, looking down at the man in his lap. “He must.”

Because he would not survive without him.

* * * * * * * * * *

A day later it became apparent that Silver was going through a high fever.

Flint held him the whole time, only let go of him to turn him slowly to get water into him, but Silver did not react to anything. He rarely opened his eyes for seconds, always unfocused and clouded by pain and the heat that was going through his body.

Seeing the state he was in, Vane had stopped to make sharp remarks and only looked in sadness at the two men. He had known Flint to be ruthless, dangerous and he had learned to respect him even when he had become the enemy. He had seen Flint’s eyes when Teach was killed, and he was grateful that Flint had ended his suffering. The only man to blame for all their fates was Rogers, and he would make him pay.

For Teach.

For Flint.

For Silver.

For himself.

He had asked Silver, when they sat both at the doors of their cells that had been opposite of each other, about how Jack was, what he knew of the smart man with the tar-pit eyes, having realized that of all the people that had been close to him in his life, it was Jack his thoughts were circling around in this time of desperation. Silver had smiled knowingly, and said that Jack was waiting for him to come home. Home.

Again, he looked at Flint and Silver, looking how Flint’s eyes were filled with worry, with something that was only there when Silver was close. Maybe it was time to fill his own eyes with the same emotion and allow himself to feel anything. If it was true that Jack was waiting for him, maybe…just maybe…

“James,” Silver whispered suddenly into the silence of their thoughts.

“I’m here,” Flint said, putting again water onto Silver’s forehead. “I’m here, John.”

Silver moved, tried to grab something and finally got hold onto Flints black shirt.

“You have to find James,” he whispered, his voice unrecognizable in the fever, slurring and trembling. “Tell him…tell him…”

“I know,” Flint said.

The hint of a smile went over Silver’s lips and a trembling hand reached out not for Flint but for Billy.

“Necklace,” he said, the voice breaking and showing that he was at the brink of falling back into unconsciousness. “Mama.”

Flint frowned, remembering how Silver once had told him that he never met his mother, but maybe, in this moment of fever, he was imagining things like he had seen many men to when their mind was clouded by the heat of their fighting body. He looked up at Billy, who looked sad, defeated and tired, as they all were.

“We have not much time left,” Billy said, wiping sweat off his neck and the string black wooden pearls he was wearing. “We should be in Nassau tomorrow morning.”

Flint nodded.

Tomorrow.

He was not sure anymore that Silver would see the sun rise once more.

* * * * * * * * * *

“I don’t know how you keep him silent,” Rackham said, the eyes widened in fear and handing the wiling baby back over to Ben, who pressed the blond child against his chest and kissed the hair, the crying stopping instantly.

“He just has taste,” Ben said with a chuckle, causing Rackham to roll his eyes. “Don’t you?” He bobbed the child a little in his arms. “Don’t you, William?”

“I also can’t believe you called him William,” Jack said, sitting down on a chair and poured himself a drink.

“And why would I not call him William?” Ben asked taking a seat next to Anne, who eyed the baby suspiciously and gave Jim, who again was close, an eye roll.

“Why not a good nice name, like Jack?” Rackham poked this baby with a finger. “You love your uncle Jack, don’t you, Willy?”

“Don’t call him Willy, John,” Ben said.

“Your fault when you give him a name like _William_.”

“Jack Rackham, stop insulting my…”

The doors to the brothel flew open, the room empty for their little group and two drunks in a corner in these early morning hours, and stopped Ben in the continuing banter with Rackham and he jumped to his feet at the sight of the men that stepped in.

Rackham stared at them and emptied his glass of brandy with one sip, getting up too.

“We need help,” Flint said, he and Billy both carrying Silver. “Get Howell.”

Ben turned to Jim.

“Get the doctor, Jim. Fast.”

Jim nodded, still staring at Silver and then took off running outside.

Jack stopped blinking unbelieving and went over to Vane.

“Ah, fuck you, Jack,” Vane said, a smug smile on the lips, something like relief in his eyes.

“Fuck you too,” Rackham said, holding back hot tears that scorched his eyes. He then just took Vane into his arms, sobbing softly into vanes hair, the Ranger’s captain returning the embrace, needing the closeness to his friend, needing to feel that someone wanted him, needed him and was happy to have him back. “Fuck you too, Charles.”

Max stepped forward.

“Upstairs,” she said. “I will have water and blankets brought up.”

Without missing a beat, Flint and Billy grabbed Silver closer and started to carry him up, following Max’s lead until they reached one of the sunny rooms out back with the large balcony, where they put Silver slowly onto the large, soft bed. Silver made no sound anymore, having not woken up since the few words he had uttered yesterday.

“He has a fever,” Max stated. “And those wounds have to be cleaned. I’ll have a bath drawn and I will have made a room ready for you too, you need to rest.”

“I’m not leaving him.”

Max rolled her eyes and took Anne’s hand, leading her out of the room, muttering something about “stupid men”.

“Hey,” Billy said to Ben, who had followed them and came into the room, carrying William in his arms, the baby’s large eyes looking curiously at the strangers.

Flint shifted a little, ready to protect Billy against Ben’s rage, not knowing how Silver’s best friend would react to the return of the man who had betrayed and left him. But his brows rose when he witnessed the short exchange between them that followed.

“Hey,” Ben gave back, and Billy walked towards Ben and stopping right in front of him, he touched the baby’s back.

“What’s that?”

“I might’ve found a baby,” Ben said hesitantly, not knowing how his lover would react to the addition to the family. “Called him William.”

“I go for one year to spy out Rogers’ plans, and when I come back you have acquired a baby?” Billy said with a soft smile, touching the blond baby hair and leaning down to lean his forehead against Ben’s.

“Surprise?” Ben said with a smile himself and leaned into the gentle kiss they shared.


	16. Chapter 16

The next days were taxing. Especially for Flint who refused to leave Silver’s side even for a moment.

The girls of the brothel brought fresh water and hot broth that he tried to get into Silver who had not woken up again from the fever. Dr. Howell had applied salves to his back, but the face of the doctor spoke of not much hope for their king.

Only when he and Silver were alone, Flint allowed himself to show weakness and the constant fear of losing Silver for good. Tears had become his constant companions in those hours of solitude, while he was trying to convince himself to believe that John would survive. And with every passing moment, he lost faith in Silver opening those gorgeous eyes once more and smiling with him with a smart and sassy remark that would make his eye-roll, curse and love him even more. Again, he had lost everything. Again, he would end up alone and in so much rage that nobody would be able to hold him back when he took revenge.

“James…,” came a whisper from his right and he, who just had been rubbing his eyes, turned and looked at Silver who though still seemed to be unconscious. Maybe he had imagined his name being spoken, but then Silver’s hand snapped up and he grabbed Flint’s wrist, the skin still hot and sweaty. “You have to tell him…,” Silver went on whispering. “You have to tell him…”

Flint leaned over his husband who was talking in his fever, speaking to someone else.

“What do you want me to tell him?” Flint whispered back, close to Silver’s ear.

“Tell him…tell him I’m sorry.”

Flint pressed a kiss to Silver’s temple.

“He knows, John. He knows and he forgives you.”

Silver smiled, the eyes still shut.

James knew that John’s mind tried to make peace before it went on to the other world. He refused to believe in a concept of heaven and hell, never had been a religious man, but he hoped that wherever John would move on, he would wait for him the not far day that he would join him. That it was a place of peace and calm, of happiness and without pain.

Their dream of sharing a life in their house at the beach had not come true. In the few hours they had spent there, they had talked about living there, sitting together on the beach and watching the sunrise and sunset every day, and Silver had told him he had never thought he would have one day a place to call home.

He dried his tears that had risen against his will, and took again the cloth with cold water, trying to cool Silver’s head.

“You need to take a break,” a voice from the door spoke, and when Flint looked up he saw Ben and Billy standing there, both looking worried.

“I’m not leaving him alone.”

Ben got closer and touched the captain at the shoulder.

“Captain,” Ben said softly, the Scottish accent heavy. “You will be of no help for him if you exhaust yourself. He needs you strong. We all need you strong. Come with me for a walk to get some fresh air.”

Flint contemplated what Ben said for a moment.

“Who will watch him?”

“I will,” Billy said. “I will send for you if anything changes.”

Flint nodded and got up, every bone in his body aching from the long time he had barely moved and left the room with Ben, while Billy sat down on a chair next to the bed and started to softly talk to the unconscious Silver.

“He will take good care of him,” Ben said. “Come.”

The two men went downstairs and Flint raised his brows when he saw Charles Vane, sitting very close to Rackham, so close that their legs touched, with the baby on his lap, bouncing the little child that giggled and tried to grab Vane’s long hair.

“Give ‘im,” Ben said and Vane handed over the infant that immediately grabbed Ben’s necklace and tugged at it.

“That one’s a little magpie, he loves anything shiny and tries to get his hands on it,” Rackham said with a chuckle. “A true pirate at heart already.”

Ben rolled his eyes and left the brothel with Flint at his side.

For a few minutes they walked next to each other without a word.

“The baby,” Flint then started. “Where does he come from?”

“A mother, I supposed,” Ben grinned, making Flint sigh.

“You spend too much time with Silver,” Flint said with a chuckle that turned into a sad feeling in his stomach. “I never had the chance to truly talk to you before, I just realize that. John would have wanted us to become friends.”

“He still wants that. I found the babe in the ruins of the streets that Rogers had his cannons fired at, buried under stones next to his dead mother. He has no one.”

Flint gave a nod, then fell back into thought.

“I’m aware that I am only tolerated as long as he is not well.”

“That is not true, captain,” Ben said. “I…we know that you left because of what John did. And nobody here blames you, least of all John. He felt guilty and hates himself for what he has done. He made a choice and it was maybe a wrong one.”

“Maybe?”

Ben looked at the other man.

“Yes, maybe. We all do things for love that are hard to explain,” he said.

Flint nodded and held out a finger to the baby who grabbed it and pulled.

“You’re a strong one,” he said. “What’s his name?”

“William Gunn,” Ben said, kissing the baby’s hair.

“William?”

“It’s not like Billy and I can have children the natural way, can we?” Ben grinned.

“So, you and Billy,” Flint said. “I’m glad you found each other. He’s a good man.”

Ben nodded.

“I know. That’s why I love him.”

Flint smiled a little.

“Can I ask you something, captain?”

“I don’t think I could stop you.”

Ben smirked.

“Do you love John?”

Flint’s eyes went far away into the distance. He took a deep breath and then sighed.

“I do.”

“Then you will always be welcome in Nassau.”

Again, Flint looked at the younger man who was cradling the child he adopted.

“We should return. I feel uneasy not knowing how he is,” Flint then said and turned around without waiting for his companion’s reply, but Ben trotted after him, both man not speaking until they reached the brothel they had only left minutes ago.

Vane and Rackham was still sitting closely next to each other and Vane looked up when Flint entered.

“We were just talking about you,” Jack said, making Flint raise a brow. “Sit with us for a moment.”

He frowned a little and took place on an empty chair next to him.

“What are your plans?”

“Going upstairs and taking care of my husband, I suppose,” Flint replied, making Vane snort.

“What Jack means is, what are your plans about Nassau?”

“I am not in a place to make plans.”

“Rogers will attack us soon, as you are aware. It will be the end of us if we don’t act first.”

He leaned back and thought about those words for a moment.

“What do you suggest?”

“We attack his fleet first,” Rackham replied.

Flint leaned forward, the eyes slits.

“You intend to attack Rogers’ fleet,” he stated. “He has six ships. Heavily armed. We will stand no chance.”

It was Vane who shook his head.

“Remember what we did to Charles Town?”

“That is hard to forget,” Flint replied. “He will already be on his way here, Charles. We have no chance to attack him while immobile.”

Rackham nodded.

“Then we need to attack him at sea.”

“How many ships do we have?”

“We have the Colonial Dawn and the Ranger. We want Anne to command Teach’s Revenge.” Rackham answered. “And we have the Walrus ready for you if you want it.”

Flint felt a flutter in his stomach at the mention of the ship that had been his home for so many years.

“That is four against six.”

“Oh you can count, how nice,” Rackham bickered.

Flint sighed, then he got up.

“Get the ships ready, give your orders. We leave before sunrise, under my command,” and with those words he went upstairs again, leaving behind the other men.

“Who said he would command us?”

Ben, who had remained silent throughout their conversation, laughed and handed the baby to the welcoming Vane, who beamed when he took the baby back and started immediately bouncing him again.

“I think he did.”

Flint met Billy in the hallway and before he could complain on why Billy was not with Silver, the bosun told him: “You should go in there.”

Cold dread came over him and he pushed the door open.

With an open mouth, he stared at the man in the bed, who was lying on his side so not to put weight on his back. But he no longer was unconscious.

When he entered, those blue eyes that always had captivated him looked up at him, and the hint of a smile appeared on Silvers face.

“Hello, James.”


	17. Chapter 17

“Absolutely not!”

Silver, who was getting his leg into the peg, looked up, the eyes still feverish.

“Watch me,” he snapped back and hissed a curse then Flint stepped closer, took the peg leg and threw it across the room. “If you broke that, you’re going to get me a new one, you fucking idiot.”

“I will when I come back. And you, your fucking highness, are staying here and try to get the fever down. You are in no state to travel on sea, yet alone in a battle. You only woke up yesterday after more than a week of unconsciousness.”

Silver’s blue eyes glared at the captain who had taken property of his usual black clothing and stood there, the feet apart, in a stance that should show superiority. But Silver was not impressed, even though he was tired and in pain.

First Flint had taken his shirt from him, now his leg. And Silver was not only annoyed. He was angry.

“Give me. Back. My. Leg,” he hissed.

“Or what?”

“I will think of something.”

“Nobody would believe that you were only yesterday at the brink of death,” Ben said from the door. “You can watch Betsy and William while we are gone.”

“I’m not a nanny!”

“Now you are,” Ben grinned and put the baby into Silver’s arms who held the little boy like a fragile teacup, the eyes widened in fear of dropping the baby.

“Take it away,” he said, the eyes wide, while the baby looked with the same wide eyes at the pirate king.

“He’s not an _it_,” Ben said while leaving. “Watch him for us until we return.”

Flint let out a laugh at the sight of the panicking John with the baby on his lap, that tried to get hold of his long curls that had been washed and were shining again.

“You look good with him,” Flint said.

“I hate children,” John replied, the eyes not leaving those of the child. “They are loud, and annoying, and they smell.”

“That sounds a lot like you.”

“Are you trying to be funny? Because it’s not working.”

Flint smiled only a little.

“I have to leave, John,” he said. “I will return, and when I return, we will have to talk.”

“I hate you,” Silver only said, watching the back of the ginger man as his husband left the room, seeing how he hesitated for a moment and then left without another word.

It took a few seconds before Silver understood what he had just done.

He might never see James again, as he was going into a battle with an uncertain outcome.

And he had told him he hated him.

“Fuck.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Flint stood on deck until the Walrus had taken up speed having put her right into the win. The sea gods were on their side and had given them a tide in their favor.

Billy had taken his place and was commanding the sailors, Ben was at the steering wheel. There were many men he recognized, most of them being the man that were in his old crew. And not one of them seemed to reject the return of their captain.

He saw that Ben handed the wheel over to one of the sailors, telling him to hold the ship on course and went the wooden steps up to his captain.

“Mister Gunn,” Flint said.

“Captain. We’re on course and the others are following our lead.”

Flint nodded, the face stern.

“You don’t think we are going to make it.”

The captain gave Ben a short look.

“We cannot be sure. But we have something Rogers has not.”

“And what is that?”

“Determination and the desire to live.”

Ben nodded and turned to leave, but Flint stopped him.

“Ben, a word,” he said, making Ben face him again. “I want to suggest you as quartermaster when we get back home.”

Ben’s eyes widened.

“What? Why?”

“Because you are a man of intelligence and reason, the men trust you and I think they will vote for you if you want the job.”

“I…I’m flattered. But this is John’s position. He is and always will be the Walrus’ quartermaster, he will always be your quartermaster.”

Flint shook his head.

“John is our king.”

“And you think that is something he wants to be? He will give up the title the moment he can. This ship, these men are his home. You can’t take that from him. Not again.”

He sighed and then nodded at Ben.

“Besides, I want to stay ashore. I am done with pirating after this. I have a son to raise.”

Flint’s lips turned into a short smile.

“That is a good reason to stay ashore. There will always be a place on this ship for you should you change your mind.”

“Just take care of my man, will you?”

“Always.”

Ben nodded and left, and Flint decided he should got into his cabin to prepare himself before they went straight into the confrontation with the British ships. He did not want to think about the fact that he might never see Silver again, might never get the chance to talk to him about the things he wants to tell him, but there was no way back now.

Getting into his cabin, he froze at the doorstep, and let the door crash closed loudly behind him.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Silver raised a brow, sitting on Flint’s suspended bed, his peg leg secured on his stump and a crutch leaning against the bed next to him. He was pale and looked tired, and yet he looked smug.

“I told you I would go with you,” Silver only said.

“I should have you thrown overboard.”

“You can try.”

Flint shook his head.

“This is no place for you. Not in your state.”

Silver got up, leaning on the crutch.

“This is no place for any man,” he gave back. “No man deserved to go into war.”

“And yet they are here by their own will.”

“Because there is no other choice!” Silver’s voice grew louder.

“And why the fuck are you now yelling at me?” Flint snapped back. “You are in pain, there is no doubt about that. It’s in your eyes. You still have a fever, and the wounds on your back are not even close to being healed. You can hardly move without wincing in pain and agony. Tell me, John,” he got very close to Silver, who had to look up at him. “Tell me how your presence if helping any of us. There is no time to take care of you when we need to take care of a fight for our lives and freedom?”

There were tears in Silver’s eyes.

“These men are my family,” he gave back. “Yes, I am in pain. I am in agony. I am not even sure how I am alive. But one thing I am sure about. And that is that my place is here. On the Walrus. With my men. At your side. And you…”

The door was opened and Billy stepped in, only shortly reacting with surprise at Silver’s presence.

“We have them on the horizon.”

Flint nodded.

“Coming,” he said. “And you stay here.”

But when he left the cabin to return to the deck, Silver followed him, and he did not stop him until he had reached the deck, where the men had gathered. The Revenge was on their bow side, the Colonial Dawn and the Ranger on their portside, and he knew that the captains of those ships were preparing their men as well for what was to come.

The crew of the Walrus looked at the man at his side with shock, but Silver smiled and stayed close to Flint, knowing that should he fall, Flint would catch him.

“I have just been informed that Woodes Rogers’ ships are on the horizon” he began. “This is the time to fight for our freedom. To fight for the lives of those we care about. To fight for Nassau. Those men,” he pointed at the horizon. “Those men have cannons and ammunition, they have more ships than us. But one thing they do not have,” he stopped and looked into the faces of his men, moving in a circle, looking at Silver. “They do not have a family to fight with side by side. One day, when history will tell stories about this day, when pirates elected a king who fought with the simplest of sailors at his side, we will be remembered!” His voice was raised so loud that Silver was sure that the men on the other ships were able to hear him as well. “We will be remembered! DeGroot, and Joji. Dooley, and Adams. Morley, Crisp, Mosiah, Dobbs and Cregg. Bonny, Vane, and Rackham. Gunn and Bones.” He looked at his husband. “Flint and Silver. These pirates! These men and women of Nassau! This band of brothers! This family!”

The first shot from a cannon rang in their ears.

Flint and Silver looked at each other.

It had begun.

* * * * * * * * * *

The losses had been devastating.

There was blood and the screams and wails of the wounded everywhere but also the knowledge that they had won.

Flint sat next to a barrel on the floor, wiping blood off his face that flood freely from a wound on his forehead constantly, making him a little dizzy. His gun and sabre were next to him, the gun empty, the sabre dipped in the blood of the enemy. He felt exhausted, tired, was in pain physically as well as mentally, but also a heavy weight fell off his chest.

He looked at the men busy on the deck. Wounded that were taken care off, the dead that were dragged to the back where they would be prepared later to be given to the sea. He saw DeGroot alive, looking defeated. He saw Joji and Dobs. Earlier he had seen Ben and Billy, holding each other in silent tears. Silver. He had not seen Silver, and he feared that his husband, wounded and already handicapped, had not survived the bloody battle.

But it did not matter anymore.

They had won, and still not one of them felt like celebrating.

Not yet.

There were tears in his eyes. And this time, he was not ashamed to show weakness.

He knew in the hours to come, when they had arrived to Nassau, the realization would come over them that they were free. For now.

There would be battles, there would be still war against the Spanish and the British Navy, but they had shown the world that they were a force to reckon with, a force that nobody should get in the way of. They would fight again and again for their freedom until they were left alone, and it would cost lives, maybe his, maybe that of his friends. But in the end, Nassau would be free, and that was what counted ultimately.

He heard metal on wood and looked up.

“Oh God,” he whispered and looked into Silver’s bluest of blue eyes, in a weary face that showed a broken smile. “Oh God, you’re alive.”

Silver only nodded.

“Rackham demands out attention,” the quartermaster turned king said. “He and Vane are alright, Anne is wounded, but she will make it, Howell is taking care of her.”

Flint got up and brushed off his coat and followed Silver to the railing that was closest to the Colonial Dawn, where they had a good view to what was going on on Rackham’s ship, accompanied by their men.

Rackham, next to Vane, stood in front of a kneeling man with shoulder long dark hair and bloodstained clothes. Flint narrowed his eyes and recognized Rogers in the captive.

“What is he doing?” Flint asked.

“I think we both know what he will do,” Silver said, the eyes on the spectacle that Rackham was unfolding, Vane at his side who seemed unmoved but the muscles under his skin shifted and everyone that knew him could see in what uproar his was on the inside.

“You once called us enemies of all mankind. You called us animals and pigs. And look at you now,” Rackham said to Rogers, then he nodded at a sailor who tied Rogers’ to a rope, and Flint understood.

“He’s doing it for Vane,” Silver said.

Flint nodded and watched as Rackham shouted: “Heave!”, not having given Rogers the curtesy of being blond folded, but had him without a hood dumped into the water, watching unmoving how the sailors pulled the privateer through the water.

“We don’t need to watch that,” Silver said, noticed how tense Flint had become.

“No, we do,” Flint said, eyes on Vane and Jack, watching how Jack took Vane’s hand in his and waited together with him until Rogers was pulled back out of the sea, flesh torn and skin shredded. “We do it for them.”

Silver nodded, and they stood side by side at the railing until Rogers was keelhauled a second time after having begged for his death and was this time pulled out of the water a corpse. Only after Rackham had the remains of Teach’s killer, of the man who had Vane and Silver tortured, thrown into the sea, they nodded towards their friends and turned to return onto the deck of the Walrus.

John leaned on his crutch, walking only slowly and intending to go below, but Flint stopped him and made him turn around.

They were standing in the center of their ship, at the same spot were eons ago Flint had declared their engagement, had declared that he and John would join their lives in matelotage.

He looked at his captain, who reached for his hand, lacing their fingers together.

“I have lost you once. I almost lost you a second time,” James said. “I am not losing you again. If you’ll have me.”

James almost did not dare to look at John’s reaction, but John showed suddenly a genuine smile full of warmth and gentleness.

“If I’ll have you?” He asked.

“Will you?”

John’s smile was wide and beaming.

“I do.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

“That’s…good.”

John rolled his eyes.

“Will you already kiss me?”

James could not hold back laughter and pulled his husband into his arms, the first kiss hesitant, but growing heated and passionate.

When they parted, they leaned their foreheads together, looking into each other’s eyes. Their smiles were tired, but happy.

“I love you,” James said.

John grinned.

“You better.”

James let out another laugh.

“I better?” He asked. “You shit.”

Again, he kissed the man who once had been a curly haired cook and thief. Who had become his best friend and quartermaster. Who had turned into his king and husband. He kissed the man he loved.

Finally, he felt like he had returned home.

And their men cheered.


	18. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember this is a Canon Divergence AU, so characters dead in canon might turn up alive in my world ;)

Three months later

Silver tilted his hips a little and leaned back, the eyes closed in bliss. He had found the absolute perfect angle to that James hit that spot inside him that made him see stars with every thrust, and he was not ashamed to moan like a seasoned, wanton slut.

His long hair was damp with sweat and was glued to his gleaming, tanned body that had gained more muscle again from helping Billy and Ben rebuild the house not far from them down the beach. One of his hands went up James’ tense body, teased only shortly the pebbled nipple before he put the hand to his face and leaned forward to seal their lips together in an intimate and intense kiss. James smiled into the touch, smiling finally more often and having lost a lot of the tension that Captain Flint carried around. He would always be his angry ginger, but a part of him, or so John thought, must have resembled more of James McGraw and the life he was supposed to have.

James grabbed his hips and moved them around, not missing a beat of their union, and continued to enter his husband’s body with deep and hard strokes, exactly the way that made John let first out little gasps, overwhelmed by the certainty that those movements that brought sweat and goosebumps to both their bodies, that made them shiver and their limps tremble, and then guttural screams when he reached the point of no return. James loved to look into John’s face the moment he came, the eyes squeezed shut, the last scream stuck in his throat, not able to move or breathe, succumbing to the closeness that they both never thought they would ever experience. James himself came silent, still, his hot breath at John’s shoulders, the eyes open and his fingers digging into John’s skin.

They stayed connected until they found breath and had regained power over their minds and movements, and James looked up, into those eyes he had fallen in love with, filled with mischief even now.

“Do I want to know what you are thinking?”

John grinned lopsided and kissed the corner of James’ lips, where the deep dimple was that he found beyond adorable.

“I’m thinking that I love you,” John said. “God, how much I love you.”

“Didn’t we say no more lies?”

John raised a brow.

“You think I lie when I tell you I love you?”

“I think you lie when you say that is all you’re thinking.”

Silver rolled his eyes.

“I’m thinking you’re getting heavy, old man,” he chuckled, but held James on top and inside of him with the leg he had hooked around his hips. “But I’m also thinking that Jim is outside that door, waiting for us to finish this and go with him to the harbor.”

James had to laugh at that, and kissed John another time before he moved off him, taking the wet cloth that was waiting next to their bed and cleaning John, who moaned softly into the intimate touch. When James had done that the first time, he had been ashamed and fussed that he could do that himself. But James had insisted, kissed him until he could not think anymore, and told him that there was nothing to be ashamed of between them, and that the aftermath of having sex was part of the act. Now, John enjoyed these moments when the air was heavy with the scent of their bodies and their union.

James got up after they had cleaned both of them and got into his breeches, handing John without a word the pegleg and put the crutch next to the bed, that John still hated to use. The pain in his leg was almost gone, and he knew now that a lot of that pain came from being not at peace with himself, a peace he had now found at James’ side.

Finally dressed, they left their bedroom, James not able to resist the need to kiss John’s neck when they went downstairs, where Jim was sitting on the front-porch, looking up at the two men. John had his hair tied back into a ponytail, James’ hair had grown further back and he was again able to tie the top back in the same way he had done when he and John had met the first time. John loved to touch the ginger waves and sleep with his nose in the hair, had mapped out every freckle on James’ body and had learned that all his life, James had been almost ashamed of his hair color and the freckles, having been mocked for them, but that the men who loved him the way he was had taught him to be less self-conscious.

“Finally,” Jim sighed and got up, making James raise a brow.

“Inpatient?” John asked and ruffled the boy’s hair, making him wince.

“You promised we would be in time for the ship to arrive, and now we will be late,” the boy complained.

James smiled.

“We will be in time, Jim,” he said and together they went down the beach and then up to the street that lead to the small harbor of Nassau, where life was always busy.

Merchants were getting wares, crates and barrels where carried around, sailors and other folk were chatting and the air was filled with the scent of spices, fruit and the sea. Jim always enjoyed these busy days, to John and James it felt like home.

John talked shortly to a merchant and took an apple from the crate he was carrying, making James shake his head.

“I hope you paid for that.”

John shrugged and took a large bite of the fruit, pressing then a sloppy kiss to James’ lips, leaving traces of apple juice on him.

“You two are truly disgusting.”

James turned and looked into the seemingly always amused blue eyes of Thomas, who leaned in to kiss James on a cheek and give John a short hug.

“You came to wait for our new arrivals?” He asked.

“And you were too curious to stay in your palace, your highness?” John grinned.

Now it was Thomas who shrugged.

They had found Thomas in Rogers’ flagship, tied down and beaten up, and they had taken the Lord back home to Nassau with them. He had within days become part of their close circle of friends, with Rackham and Thomas constantly bickering and getting into battles of their sharp minds, and when John told his friends that he did not want to be king, that a better man should rule them, all eyes had turned to Thomas, who stared at the bunch of pirates, until he rolled his eyes and said that of course he was the one who had to be king, since he was the only one with manners, looking at Vane, who just that moment was spitting out a chunk of chewing tobacco. John had burst out in laughter, and Rackham had remarked that Vane was constantly embarrassing him. Nobody was surprised that Rackham and Vane had started a sexual relationship, only Rackham was surprised that nobody was surprised.

“Palace?” Thomas asked with a grin. “I’m living in a room on the top floor of a brothel.”

“And you love it,” James said, sitting with Jim on a large crate, loving how well the two men he had loved in his life were getting along.

He did not feel that kind of love anymore for Thomas, but he would always be his close friend and confidant, and Thomas and John have become friends in record time. With the sharp mind and quick tongue that Thomas combined in himself, he should not have been surprised that he fit into the community of pirates like that, and the Lord had taken his position with confidence and strength. He would be the leader they needed to make them stronger and unite them.

“I really do not, how dare you?” Thomas said, winking at John, who started to laugh. “The governor’s villa will be ready in a few weeks so I can move there and reside in a more appropriate environment.”

The three man and the boy waited for a while until the ship that brought passengers visiting Nassau to their shore, and Jim grew more and more anxious with every passing moment, until he saw the two people walk down the plank that they were waiting for. He jumped from the crate and ran, not teenager anymore but turned back into being a little boy when he saw his mother and jumped into her arms, the proud and still so fragile woman in tears within seconds, holding her only son so close she might would be crushing his rips, but Jim could not be bothered. He buried his head at his mother’s shoulder and they all saw how he was crying into her dress. Mrs. Hawkins looked up and saw Silver, Flint and Hamilton stand there, all three man smiling kindly. She finally got free of her sons embrace and took his hand, saying a few things to him and then being led by him towards the waiting men.

“Ma, you of course know John Silver,” he started, and it was Thomas who chuckled at how official the boy tried to sound at the introductions. “And this is Captain James Flint, Mister Silver’s husband and captain of the Walrus.” James gave a nod. “And this,” Jim beamed proudly. “this is Lord Thomas Hamilton, our king.”

Thomas, all gentleman, took the hand of the speechless woman and pressed a kiss onto the back of her hand, his eyes on hers.

“I’m very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Hawkins. My household really needs a housekeeper and cook,” he said with a curious look at the man that had followed them.

“Oh,” Jim said, a little ashamed sounding. “And this is Mr. Stephens, he was cook in Mister Silver’s inn.”

Thomas shook the cooks hand.

“Pleased to meet you, Mister Stephens. I heard nothing but good things about your cooking skills.”

“Can’t be worse than John’s,” James laughed, earning an elbow to his side. “What? It’s true. You absolutely have no idea how to even boil water.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“It absolutely is.”

The flapping of wings came to John’s ears and the moment he sighed, the red feathered parrot landed on his shoulder.

“Pieces of Eight. Pieces of Eight,” he cracked.

“Well hello, Captain Flint.”

James brows rose up.

“Did you just say…?”

“What? She has red feathers, you have red hair, and she’s an annoying glutton,” and without thinking, John pulled a treat out of a pocket of his coat and fed it to the parrot.

“Shiver me timbers.”

“Oh my God,” Flint sighed.

Thomas could not stop laughing at James’ face, but then his eyes found something behind James that made him be still. His head tilted a little to the side and there was a sudden gleam in his eyes, that James noticed and only knew too well. Thomas had a target for his desire, an interest peaking in him that he had not felt in a long time.

James turned around to see who Thomas’ eyes had fallen on, and saw a couple of sailors, who definitely were not something Thomas would waste his time on. But then his eyes fell on a man, and his head snapped back around, staring at Thomas, on whose lips a lopsided and interested smile appeared.

“What is it?” John asked silent.

“Thomas?” James asked.

“Hmm?” The king only gave back.

“Are you fucking serious?” James hissed. “Do you have any idea who that is?”

Thomas smiled, and John looked into the same direction as him, his eyes widening a little.

“I don’t, but I’m very intend of finding out. If you will excuse me?”

And with that, Thomas went into the direction of the slender man with the shoulder long sandy hair and beard. Even over the distance the scar over his right eye was visible, as were the white clouds that covered the eyeball. A stern looking man that was not tall, but he held himself with pride and something about him spoke of danger.

James and John looked at each other and smiled knowingly, knowing if there was one man to tame the unpredictable, rogue man with the scar, it was Thomas Hamilton.

Next to each other, they leaned against the crate, their hands touching, watching their friends and family.

And both had only one thought.

Life was good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it, folks.
> 
> I want you all so much for your support. My cheerleaders on twitter, and especially those I have come to think of as friends after such a short time since I started to dip my toes into this wonderful fandom.
> 
> This AU world will be back. Maybe not with a third longer story, but I have ideas for one shots that I may write. 
> 
> I hope you all had as much fun reading this, as I had writing this.


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